


Commander

by MorbidBirdy



Series: The Space Between [2]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, F/M, Footnotes, International Space Station, M/M, NASA, Outer Space, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-02-27 10:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13246563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorbidBirdy/pseuds/MorbidBirdy
Summary: Months after enduring the horrors of the last mission's tragedy the team reassembles for another expedition to the International Space Station. This time Heero, the mission's new commander, must attempt to hide his feelings for his flight engineer Trowa Barton while he manages the rest of the crew. Conflict arises with the addition of a pair of Russian cosmonauts, who begin to exhibit suspicious behavior and fail to connect with the rest of the team. While Heero attempts to balance his personal and professional obligations new information comes to light about the tragic accident that will change everything.





	1. Chapter 1

**_Kennedy Space Center_ ** ****  
**_Titusville Florida, United States_ ** **_  
_ ** ******_Monday, August 30, 2004_**

 

As Heero entered the cafe on the first floor of the Kennedy Space Center he noticed that it was nearly identical to the one back in Houston at the Johnson Space Center. The dark, recently polished cherry wood floors gleamed and reflected the soft, ambient lighting from the modern overhead light fixtures. Like the walls of Johnson’s cafe, Kennedy’s boasted portraits of notable astronauts who had all trained and launched from there: Alan Shepard, Neil Armstrong, Sally Ride, and Edward White all watched him with solemn expressions as he cradled his double espresso in hand while he studied the second cup placed on a saucer directly across from him.

It had been 5 months since Heero was offered the command position of STS-108; a crew rotation, resupply and International Space Station maintenance mission. In a month’s time he and his crew were set to launch from Cape Canaveral, Florida on the Space Shuttle Endeavor for an 8-month long stint in Low Earth Orbit[1].

For 5 months he had prepared his body to once again become accustomed to microgravity and the initial increased g-forces of launch. Finally he’d been cleared for mission, but he couldn’t help but be overly cautious this time. He had turned down attending many 4th of July celebrations, a wedding, a surprise birthday party and a trip with Wufei and Duo to Disney World in fear of contracting any microbes or illness that would prevent him from returning to space. Heero knew that it was stupid, after all his last grounding had nothing to do with community-acquired illness, but he took the precautions anyway.

It wasn’t like he had anything to lose by not being social. Every day he trained and prepared with the American unit of his crew. He had plenty of daily interaction with others. Now all he wanted was interaction with a particular person, one he hadn’t seen at all these past 5 months.

Trowa Barton had been offered a position as flight engineer under Heero’s command for mission STS-108 and shortly after accepting the slot he was quickly carted off across the Pacific Ocean to Cologne, Germany for refresh training with the ESA and to spend his next few weeks with his family in France before his extended time in orbit.

Trowa’s departure had left no time for Heero to really get to know him. Training was necessary, and they had become burdened with too many personal and professional demands to pursue one another any further. Before Heero knew it Trowa had called him from the airport to say goodbye and asked him to keep in touch.

Initially Heero _had_ kept in touch until he experienced a sudden family emergency. His mother, Aoi, had been diagnosed with liver cancer. It came as a surprise to everyone, especially Heero. His mother was a healthy woman. She never smoked, drank, and was active for her age. Suddenly she had become weak, bedridden from chemotherapy, and her prognosis hadn’t been good.

He had found himself at an impasse. If he left Houston for Japan he would have to forfeit his position on the mission. Pre-flight training was a requirement, he couldn’t fly without it. However, if he didn’t see his mother he may have never seen her again.

So he had signed the paperwork to release his position as commander and flew home to Japan to be with her. When he arrived he was greeted by his father, who had no problem telling Heero how disgusted he was with him throwing his career away for ‘something like this’.

Heero never had a good relationship with his father. Odin, ethnically Russian, wasn’t the warmest parent and had never been very openly supportive of him. When Heero had joined the Japanese Navy his father refused to come to his swearing in. When Heero had expressed his desire to join the Japanese Aeronautics Exploration Agency his father had refused to speak to him for an entire month. When they finally did speak again, it was so Odin could give Heero an earful about how JAXA was an inferior organization that didn’t even have its own training facilities (Heero would have to train with NASA) and that the Russian Space Agency was world-class and had a long, prestigious history when it came to space exploration.

Heero wouldn’t let himself be swayed by his father’s opinions. He had already made his decision, and by doing so had forced an even bigger wedge between them. Before Heero returned home to be with his mother he hadn’t spoken to his father for nearly two years. His father’s first words to him after two years had been an insult.

He had spent a week at his mother’s bedside. Her condition had been stable. She was weak from the chemotherapy but still holding on. She promised him she wouldn’t be dying anytime soon.

He hadn’t believed her. Every day he sat beside her, tending to her every need while his father ignored him, sulked in the corners and accosted the nurses. Despite how poor his father’s behavior was, Heero knew that it was the only way he could cope. There was no doubt that Odin loved his mother and what she saw in him, Heero had no idea.

Finally on his seventh day in the hospital with her Aoi began to cry and told him that she didn’t want to see him waste his life sitting around while she recovered, and that it made her unhappy to see him there. The admission had caught Heero off guard. How could she want him to leave? What if she died? He didn’t know if he could live with himself for being so far away. If things took a turn for the worse he had no way of coming back home to her.

Eventually Aoi had won him over and coaxed him into returning to NASA. An awkward phone call with Quatre and Miss Sodhi resulted in his reinstatement and immediate return to Houston to resume his training.

His mother was finally in remission, however she couldn’t go home due to her continued weakened state. Instead the Japanese health system advised her to take up residence in a long-term care unit at one of their nursing homes so she could continue to be closely monitored. While Heero knew that it was the best place for her, he still couldn’t shake the guilt of his own mother being in a nursing home while he was off riding a rocket to outer space.

He had fallen behind and it took a month for him to catch up to the rest of the crew. In that time, with all of the family drama and overload of work, he had lost touch with Trowa. The thin thread that had once connected them had been severed and Heero couldn’t bring himself to call him, to bother him with his problems and burden him with his own situation. Now, five months later, Trowa was set to return to the United States for the final phase of pre-flight preparations and training. It was time to apologize.

Heero rolled his wrist and looked down at his watch. He had been early. An hour early. He glanced across the table at the espresso he had ordered Trowa, to pay him back for the coffee the other astronaut had bought him in Houston 5 months before. It was probably cold by now.

He bounced his knee under the table and crossed his arms over his chest. With each passing second he felt his own anxiety creeping up the center of his chest, forcing his breath to quicken. The last time he had coffee with Trowa Barton he’d almost kissed him. He could still recall the moist, pale pink of the other man’s lips as if he had just seen them only minutes before. Their former coffee date had played out like a perfect dream, before his professional dreams had crashed in to interrupt it.

What had Trowa been doing all of this time? Aside from the occasional, rare email about training related annoyances he hadn’t spoken to him much at all. He wanted to know how he was. What he did in his free time. How his family was. Was he ready to fly? How did he feel about being under Heero’s command?

That was one of the biggest question plaguing him. He was going to serve on the ISS with Trowa, but unfortunately their first mission together was going to have unspoken restrictions on their personal interactions. Heero was going to be Trowa’s commander. To openly pursue the flight engineer would be fraternization. After Noin had conceived Milliardo’s child in space, NASA had begun to crack down hard on their lax enforcement of the ‘no relationships’ rule as well. Relationships in space had become a liability. That, along with the fact that Trowa was another man, made things complicated. This mission would be monitored by two Russian cosmonauts who, more than likely, would be opposed to same-sex relationships. Heero had a feeling that if these Russians had any of the same values as his own Russian father he’d be faced with a serious conflict if they found out he had feelings for another male crewmember. He doubted that they would take him seriously as their mission Commander if they knew.

Heero was now responsible for others. He had to put his mission above his own wants. It was going to be a crowded station: two Russian cosmonauts, NASA astronauts Duo Maxwell, Sally Po, Wufei Chang, ESA’s Trowa Barton and himself would be working to revamp the ISS power storage units, solar cells and be optimizing various aspects of basic life support to make the station more efficient for the next set of crew.

While he knew he was going to be busy managing the others with their laundry list of work, he wasn’t sure how he was going to last 8 months with Trowa on the International Space Station, crammed in such close quarters, and still manage to maintain strict professionalism. He could barely make it through a cup of espresso without trying to kiss him. It had been safer to be an atmosphere away from Trowa and to admire him from afar. Now he would literally be within arm’s reach, and he hadn’t _stopped_ Heero from touching him the last time they had seen each other.

Did that mean that he wanted Heero’s advances? Or was he just too stunned in the moment to respond? Had he interpreted the casual demeanor, playful smiles and half-lidded smouldering green eyes as an invitation? Or was Trowa Barton just an openly affectionate person, and he hadn’t stopped him from almost kissing him because he had been too stunned in the moment?

The questions had nagged Heero’s sleepless nights ever since Trowa had left for his ESA training in Germany. It was why he wanted to speak to Trowa alone before they began their final phase of training. He wanted to know where they stood - where the line needed to be drawn.

There was movement at the entrance of the cafe. A small group of NASA staff walked through the doors chatting noisily amongst themselves. Trailing behind them, hands in his pockets and earbuds in, was Trowa Barton.

The tall astronaut scanned the room until he spotted Heero’s familiar face. He reached into his pocket for his brand new 4th generation iPod and powered it down, tugging the earbuds gently from his ears as he approached the table.

“Heero.”

At the sound of his name being spoken by a voice he hadn’t heard in months, Heero immediately stood and nodded to Trowa in greeting.

“Hey.” His fingers twitched, he wasn’t sure what to do. Their last meeting had been intimate in nature, and before that when they had first met in person Trowa had hugged him. He found himself glancing around the room, wondering if anyone else was spectating this meeting. He was mission Commander now. Would it be out of line to hug him in greeting?

Irritated and unsure what to do, he simply stuck out his hand. “Thanks for coming,” he finally said.

Trowa shook his hand firmly and formally. “Yeah, no problem. How are you,” he asked politely.

Heero immediately noticed that Trowa’s hands were the same as they had been before. The heart of his palm was warm, but his long slender fingers held an unusual chill. He shook the offered hand and released it quickly, waited for Trowa to take the seat across from him and then took his own.

“I’m well.” That was a lie. Heero was exhausted, emotionally and physically. Stress had become his constant companion. He couldn’t sleep and he could barely eat, but most of all he missed talking to Trowa, a fact he couldn’t openly admit. “How have you been?”

“I’m alright. Is this for me?” Trowa was studying the coffee in front of him.

The coffee. Heero had completely forgotten about it. It had been sitting on the table for nearly half an hour. He had ordered it without thinking about the time. “Yeah, it was, but it’s probably no good by now…” he admitted, feeling a tingling heat well up in his face. “I got here earlier than I meant to. Let me order you another one?”

Trowa shook his head and smiled. “No, I’m sure this is fine. Thank you.” He picked the cup up and brought it to his lips for a sip. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something…?”

Heero pushed his own coffee away with a frown, his stomach too tied up in knots to even consider taking it in. “Yes. I want to discuss this upcoming mission, I want your input on a few things and-” he paused and crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to calm his nerves, “-I wanted to talk to you because I regret not having kept in contact with you over the summer.”

Trowa shook his head again. “It’s alright. Don’t feel bad,” he replied, his expression reflecting friendly understanding. His finger slid along the edge of the saucer as he spoke. “Quatre told me about your mother. I’m sorry to hear about it. I hope she’s doing better?”

“As well as can be hoped,” Heero replied slowly as he studied Trowa’s expression curiously. He had been been speaking with Quatre? He wondered what else he knew. Quatre was the only other person Heero had ever confided in. Upon his return to Houston to resign his command offer he had spilled everything to him: his mother’s situation, his conflict with his father, his concerns about possible cultural disagreements with the Russian staff on board the station and had finally admitted his feelings for Trowa. To hear Quatre say that he already knew how he felt had been a shock. Heero thought he had hidden his feelings better than that. It made him self conscious about his actions towards Trowa ever since.

Had Quatre told Trowa everything? Heero doubted it. Quatre had more respect for others than that. However, the notion that his personal secret was now out and floating amongst the staff at NASA still bothered him.

“I’m not the best with being emotionally available to people,” Heero admitted candidly. “It’s something I’m trying to work on. I should have told you what was happening instead of cutting you off like I did. I value your friendship, Trowa, and it bothers me to think that my sudden silence could have hurt you. No matter what the reason was…” He tapped his finger against his forearm thoughtfully. “I don’t want to push away my friends anymore. Which makes this upcoming mission complicated, considering all of the factors at play.”  
  
It was why he wanted to talk to him. He wanted him to know that he valued his friendship, no matter what his role was about to be. Feeling unsettled, he shifted in his seat, grabbed his cold cup of espresso and forced himself to sip it.

Trowa appeared to shift uncomfortably in his seat as he picked up his own cup, took a sip of his cold coffee and averted his gaze. “It’s okay, Heero. It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

Heero frowned. He could easily perceive the coolness of their conversation, far different from the warm friendship of their last exchange.

The problem was that the situation _was_ complicated. Heero had tried to dismiss his feelings for the other astronaut. He had spent his time as CAPCOM trying to deny his feelings and when he finally had come to terms with how he felt Trowa had been ripped away from him and limits had been imposed on their interactions.

Heero wasn’t one to ignore his personal wants. He had never experienced anything like this before: a situation where he was so passionately obsessed with someone but unable to act on it. Seeing Trowa in person was making these thoughts more intense, making the points he had previously planned to outline a muddled mess in his mind.

“It _is_ complicated,” he finally said, his voice tight. _I’m not walking away from this. I’ve got to tell him everything, or else I’m going to burst._ “Listen, I just want you to know that I really-”

“Hey! It’s about time you showed up, Frenchie!” A figure bounced up to their table, dragged a chair from nearby and forced himself between them. “I was wonderin’ when you were gonna get here.”

Heero felt his entire body tense, his heart throbbing heavily in his chest. Duo Maxwell was grinning at them, unaware that he had interrupted Heero’s flood of emotion. It was as if he had let the floodgates of his mind free, only to be immediately stopped by a dam with a braid and a bag of chips. He didn’t even try to mask his irritation, his face icing over with annoyance.

“Heero, you okay? You’re lookin’ a little pale, pal.”

“It’s because he got a good look at your face.” Wufei walked up behind the braided astronaut, arms crossed over his chest, looking annoyed and like a parent who’d had no luck keeping their child in check.

“Trowa! It’s so good to see you!” Sally’s pleasant voice pierced the air as she appeared at Trowa’s side. She bent down to wrap her arms casually around his shoulders in a friendly embrace.

“Hey guys,” Trowa regarded them all in turn and then offered a polite smile.

Heero couldn’t help but feel the claws of jealousy slashing at his stomach, making him unsettled as Sally casually hugged Trowa. It was a gesture that only she could do, because she was a woman and of equal rank. Had Heero done something like that he would risk getting in trouble for it.

“Hardee, har har,” Duo replied to Wufei’s comment with an eye roll and a dismissive wave of his hand. “This is the face that launched a thousand ships-”

“More like a thousand shits,” Wufei replied coolly, grabbing a chair and sliding it up to sit to Heero’s left.  
  
“Damn, Wufei, you’re fierce,” Duo said with a laugh, clearly unaffected by the comment. “So what are you guys talkin’ about?” He peered at Heero’s coffee and noticed he hadn’t finished it. “You gonna drink that?”

Heero sighed and pushed his coffee at Duo, his expression hard. “Nothing. It was nothing…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Low Earth Orbit: “LEO” 2k kilometers or less from the Earth’s surface. LEO is where the International Space Station is.


	2. Chapter 2

****_**Denny’s**  
_ **_Titusville Florida, United States  
_ ** ******_Wednesday, September 1, 2004_**

 

The Denny’s was crowded for a weekday morning, filled with tourists and rambunctious locals who were arguing over the previous day’s college football score while getting their early morning coffee fixes. Duo had recommended _Denny’s_ for a ‘cheap and tasty’ breakfast so Trowa and Quatre decided to meet up there before heading in for work at the Kennedy Space Center.

Trowa’s stomach growled impatiently as he quickly peeked over the top of the menu at his breakfast companion. Quatre didn’t seem to notice, too focused on his own menu, or perhaps he was being polite and just ignoring it. Another angry growl forced Trowa to turn his attention back to his menu so he could weigh his options. Should he get the Lumberjack Slam or the Sticky Bun Pancake breakfast? Did he want savory or sweet? The restaurant had an overwhelming amount of choices, none of which seemed healthy, unless he ordered something mundane like a glass of water and a side of fruit. Denny’s wasn’t known for their healthy options.

_Fuck it. Pancakes it is._

His mind made up, Trowa folded the menu and set it on the table in front of him. He blindly reached out for a cup of coffee and grabbed nothing but air. _Damn, service here is slow..._

“What do you think? Should I get the pancakes or the french toast?” Quatre looked up at him with a smile.

“Did you know that ‘french toast’ didn’t actually originate in France? We call our equivalent _pain perdu,_ which means ‘lost bread’. It’s not the same as the American version. It’s a lot drier with less sugar,” Trowa shrugged and watched as Quatre’s face illuminated with interest. His aquamarine eyes grew larger as he hung off every word.

“Treat yourself and get the french toast. I’ve decided to get the sticky bun pancakes,” said Trowa encouragingly.

Quatre laughed and set his menu aside. “Alright. We both may need an afternoon nap after this inevitable sugar overload.” The server finally arrived to pour them some coffee and take their orders.

After taking a few long sips of his coffee Quatre smiled at Trowa and asked, “So, how have you been? I haven’t seen you in months. What have you been up to since the last mission?”

“I’ve been busy. I feel like I haven’t had any time to rest,” Trowa answered, suddenly realizing how tired he sounded. He ran his finger over the handle of the ceramic coffee mug and gazed down at its dark, muddy contents. “NASA has flown me all over the place for promotional appearances and to talk about my time on the ISS. Then the ESA shipped me off to Germany to train. I managed to squeeze in a few weeks of vacation time to see my family before coming back here.”

To the casual observer the French astronaut appeared to be calm and collected, but it was just a façade. It had been a whirlwind summer, and his head swam with all that had happened since the last mission.

The first few months after the accident had been the worst. He had suffered from numerous panic attacks, all of which he had tried to hide and couldn’t speak to anyone about for fear of jeopardizing his career. At night his dreams were haunted by Milliardo’s death, which played out in a dramatic loop over and over again until he woke up screaming, his heart racing and his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He was lucky if he got a couple hours of sleep each night.

Eventually the anxiety and stress became too much to handle. Clearly something wasn’t right. Trowa didn’t know what it was, but it wouldn’t go away on its own. His mental health was deteriorating and he decided to consult a private psychiatrist who after just a few visits confirmed Trowa’s growing suspicions.

He was suffering from post traumatic stress disorder.

There was no way Trowa could tell NASA about his diagnosis. He _couldn’t_ let them know. He was worried that he would be treated differently because of his disorder and told that he wasn’t fit to fly. People would look at him like he was crazy. No, he couldn’t tell anyone. He wasn’t going to let his mental weakness keep him from his career goals. He would learn to manage the PTSD, control it and suppress it on his own.

However that was easier said than done, and although Trowa felt like he finally had some semblance of control over his disorder he was worried that his symptoms would reappear while in space.

“Have you enjoyed working with NASA’s marketing department? I hear they can’t get enough of you.” Quatre’s soft voice ripped Trowa from his thoughts and he jerked his head up to look at the other.

“I… They’re all very nice people, but they’re very demanding of my time. Being the ‘face’ of the organization isn’t exactly my dream job.” Trowa admitted with a shrug.

The media had been heavily focused on the accident as more rumors and theories arose concerning what had went wrong with the Catalonia Industries supply capsule. Trowa was often unwillingly forced into the spotlight, and had been labeled a ‘hero’ for saving his remaining crewmember’s lives. He hated the attention and didn't feel deserving of any of it, but because of the public’s fascination with the idea of a ‘space hero’, the marketing team wasn’t likely to let up on him any time soon.

“You do a good job representing us. It’s been a while since one of our astronauts has gotten this much attention. It’s nice,” Quatre sipped his coffee. “And your face is pleasing to look at.” He added with a smirk before their server returned with their food.

Trowa looked down at his pancakes. His stomach rumbled impatiently as he picked up his fork and started to eat in an attempt to dodge the topic of his ‘pleasing’ face. It was just a face, nothing special. Everyone had one.

“A lot of people are getting excited about this upcoming mission. We’ve rounded up a really talented crew and I have a feeling a lot of records will be made this time. What do you think about your new commander?” Quatre asked curiously, cutting himself a hefty slice of french toast.  

 _Heero._ Trowa finished chewing and washed away the sticky-sweet taste with a swig of his bitter black coffee. “I respect Heero and I think he will make a great commander. Everyone constantly compared me to him last mission, so I’m curious about working alongside him in space.”

Quatre nodded and gave Trowa a knowing look, as if he could see right through him, making him feel suddenly self conscious.

Was it THAT obvious he had formed feelings for Heero? Did Quatre know? Trowa quickly averted his gaze down at his half-eaten pile of pancakes and began poking little holes in them with his fork as his mind drifted to thoughts of his new commander.

He hadn’t spent a lot of time with Heero since arriving at the Kennedy Space Center because their schedules had been packed with individual training and meetings. They’d grown apart between missions, and at first Trowa had been disappointed and hurt over their lack of communication. He wondered if he’d done something wrong, or if his PTSD was forcing him into a reclusive hole and he was shutting everyone out, including Heero. When Quatre had informed him of Heero’s mother’s health concerns, Trowa quickly forgave the lack of contact and stopped taking it personally.

Even though they weren’t as close as they used to be, Trowa still felt his heart flutter whenever Heero was near. That calm, firm voice made appearances in his dreams and floated to the forefront of his mind whenever he was having panic attacks, reminding him to breathe as it had during the accident. He’d never reacted this way towards any of his crushes in the past. His feelings for Heero were confusing and complicated, intense and consuming. He didn’t know how to handle them.

Quatre had finished his meal and was pushing a blob of errant syrup around his plate with his fork. He looked up and gave Trowa a small, encouraging smile. “Well, as long as you’re not a plant you’ll have nothing to worry about, “ he said with a chuckle.

Trowa sighed. Quatre’s smile and laugh had forced the tension that had built inside him to melt away. It had been a long time since he had felt so at ease.

“Yeah,” he replied, his fingers cupped tightly around his warm coffee mug, “nothing to worry about.” He tried to feign as much confidence as possible. Hopefully Quatre was right.

 

* * *

 

 ****__**Kennedy Space Center, Visitor Center Campus  
Titusville Florida, United States  
Saturday, September 4, 2004**

 

“Woah, that’s one huge gas tank!”

Heero would have plowed right into Duo’s back had it not been for Sally Po’s hand reflexively snapping out to grab his shoulder. He stumbled to a stop just as the American astronaut spun around on his red, tattered sneakers and locked eyes on a group of rowdy teenagers who were standing around a large, orange prototype space shuttle fuel tank on display between visitor center buildings.

“Hey, kids!” Duo called out with a grin as he broke away from them and trotted up to them. They were all wearing matching blue KSC Space Camp t-shirts.

“Here we go,” Sally murmured under her breath, pat Heero on the shoulder and then nudged his back encouragingly. Heero frowned, sighed and reluctantly followed their friendly colleague over to the campers.

By the time they had caught up with Duo he had jumped the short wire fence that surrounded the tank and was making grand gestures at the massive mustard-colored tank behind him. The kids were gathered along the fence, glancing over their shoulders with worried expressions. It occured to Heero that the campers had no idea who Duo Maxwell was, and since he was in plain clothes, he just appeared to be an enthusiastic wack-o who had just jumped a fence and was waxing on about liquid rocket engines.

“So technically, yeah, this is a ‘fuel tank’ but the when the ingredients mix together we like to refer to it as ‘propellant’. If you say ‘gas’ around an astronaut they’ll just roll their eyes and laugh at ya,” Duo was explaining, all smiles. “But you guys are all future space explorers, so I know you’re gonna use the right lingo. You. You there.”

Duo pointed to a shy-looking girl at the end of the row. “Who’s your favorite astronaut?” He put his hands on his hips, grinning. He must have assumed that the kids knew who he was but their stunned, confused expressions made it clear that they didn’t.

“Uhm… well…” the girl tried to slink away. Duo sighed and shrugged.  
  
“Okay, then, you!” He pointed to a boy at the front of the line. “Who’s your favorite?”

“Major Tom,” the kid replied with a grin. “George Jetson? Captain Kirk?” A couple of his friends laughed.  
  
“Well, okay, lemme ask it a different way. Who’s your favorite _real_ astronaut?” Duo crossed his arms over his chest and chuckled. It was obvious that he missed dealing with the public. He had no problem speaking up in front of a crowd, something that Heero admired about him.

“Sally Ride!” One of the girls at the end of the row exclaimed.

“That’s a good one! Who else?” Duo urged them to speak up, his enthusiasm addicting.  
  
“John Glenn!”

“Neil Armstrong!”  

“Yeah, yeah okay. All good choices. Nice… nice.” Duo leaned his back against the fuel tank stand and grinned at them. “But aren’t there any really _cool_ , handsome, more modern choices out there, huh?” He was winking playfully at them.

“Oooh! Ooh!” One of the girls was bouncing on her toes, arm waving in the air. “I have one!”  
  
Duo beamed. “Alright, who is it?”

“Trowa Barton!”

Half an hour later Sally and Heero had made their way through the final exhibit in the museum. They made their way out into the afternoon sunshine side by side with their dejected-looking colleague moping along behind them.

“They’re just kids,” Heero said over his shoulder. If Duo’s braid had been a tail it would have been firmly tucked between his legs.

“Yeah, but they’re supposed to be _smart_ kids. They’re at friggin’ space camp, man. I woulda thought they’d have seen at least _one_ of our ISS LIVE! videos. Don’t get me wrong. I love Trowa to death, he’s a swell guy, but really? They didn’t even recognize me!” The crestfallen American astronaut had his long, trademark braid draped over his right shoulder. He gave it an occasional, frustrated tug as he shuffled along behind them.

“I don’t blame them,” Sally said casually as she tucked her hands into the pockets of her thin blue NASA windbreaker jacket. “Trowa’s pretty cute.”  
  
Duo rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I’m _cute_.”

“Well yes, of course you are,” Sally recovered with a smile and dropped back to hook her arm through Duo’s. “Very cute. Handsome. I’m just saying that Trowa’s cute _and_ his face is all over the place now that he’s NASA’s new posterboy.”

Duo sighed. “Yeah-yeah. It’s okay, I’m used to playin’ second fiddle to someone. First it was ‘Anything-You-Can-Do-I-Can-Do-Better’ Yuy over there, and now it’s Prettyboy Barton.”

Sally chuckled. “You’ve got your own charm, Duo. Everyone has their own strengths. You’re personable, funny, handsome-”

Duo groaned. “Nah-nah, it’s okay. You don’t have to stroke my ego.” He paused. “So what about me bein’ handsome?”

Sally laughed. “You’re very handsome. All of the crew are.”

“Man, see. You just cheapened that compliment. You’re sayin’ I’m as handsome as Heero, or that KBG agent they call a Russian cosmonaut? The guy looks like he’s part bear. Have you seen that dude’s forearms? You can run your fingers through that hair. Bigfoot _does_ exist- they’ve been trainin’ him to pilot rockets into outer space!”

Sally was laughing hard, her face turning bright pink as she tried to catch her breath. “That’s terrible.”

“Hey! Yo, Yuy! Wait up, I wanna go in here real quick!”

Heero looked over his shoulder just in time to see Duo dragging a breathless Sally into the Kennedy Space Center gift shop. He considered abandoning them but then realized that Duo and Sally’s hotel room keys were still in his pocket from when they had handed them over an hour. They had emptied their pockets before a brief stint in the center’s obligatory NASA Astronaut Training Gyroscope experience and had asked Heero to hold them for safe keeping.

With a defeated sigh Heero reluctantly ducked into the gift shop. He was immediately greeted by the sight of everything and anything imaginable covered in round ‘meatball’ NASA logos. Hats, t-shirts, shot glasses, teddy bears, magnets, posters, wallets, even space shuttle themed soap on a rope. The front rack was covered in solar system printed beach towels beside a bucket of cheerful rubber duckies dressed as astronauts.

He spotted Duo and Sally standing along a back wall studying a wall covered in books, magazines and various printed materials. Duo was laughing so loudly that a few tourists in the shop had turned to stare at them. As Heero approached his colleagues he spotted a familiar figure standing in front of them.

His eyebrow raised in surprise. _Trowa?_ No. As he drew closer he could see that the visage of their French flight engineer was one dimensional. It was a picture. Another cardboard cutout.

Duo was tugging a “Failure Is Not An Option” Apollo 13 t-shirt over the head of the cutout like a child playing with a paper doll. Sally was standing back with her arms crossed over her chest, shaking her head, smirking with amusement at the American’s antics.

“It’s obscene, this black gimp suit they got him wearin’,” Duo chortled as he smoothed the shirt down over the front of Trowa’s cutout in an attempt to cover up the black, clingy futuristic space suit he had been photographed in. “A little modesty, Barton. Sheesh…”

“You could put that guy in a potato sack and he’d still be gorgeous,” Sally teased as she picked up a jacob’s ladder toy from a nearby shelf an began tinkering with it.

Duo rolled his eyes. “Yeah-yeah, we get it. You have the hots for Trowa. It’s not like the whole world doesn’t know, Po.”

Sally shrugged. “I mean, who doesn’t?”

Duo was tying the front of the t-shirt in a knot. “I don’t.”

“Liar,” Sally accused him playfully. “You flirted with him more than any of us. You’re just upset that I stole your kiss.”

The American astronaut had pulled the tied knot of the t-shirt up through the neck hole, creating a modified and ridiculous looking crop top for cutout-Trowa. “I coulda had that guy if I wanted to,” he mused as he straightened out his work

Sally sighed and shook her head. “I don’t think he’s that kind of guy.”

“Psh, yeah right. He kissed you…” Duo grumbled as he stepped back to study his work. “You’re tryin’ to tell me that he’s not that kinda guy, but he seemed to enjoy those lips of yours on New Years.”

Heero narrowed his eyes as Duo made Trowa’s cutout look ridiculous. It was annoying him. As the two bickered he forced himself between the American and the picture of the French astronaut and irritably ripped the t-shirt up and off of it.  
  
“Hey, what’re ya doing?!” Duo grabbed for the t-shirt and snatched it out of Heero’s hand, stunned.

“You’re being disrespectful,” Heero growled. He glowered at Duo, his feet spread apart in a defensive stance, “and unprofessional.”

Duo rolled his eyes and started to unknot the shirt. “Okay, killjoy. Sheesh, calm down, will ya? It’s not like I’m defacing it or something. Just havin’ a little fun.”

It wasn’t funny to Heero. He knew that Trowa had been struggling with life after the incident and in previous conversations had expressed discontent over his new role as NASA’s front and center poster child. It was bad enough that his face was plastered on every pamphlet, guide book and banner in the facility. He didn’t need any more humiliation.

Heero frowned. He knew it was just a cardboard cutout, and the way Duo was looking at him made him feel foolish but he stood his ground anyway.

“Eh, fine. Whatever,” the American said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He folded the shirt and put it back where he found it before wandering off to look at something else. “Heh, hey Sal, check this out!”

Sally gave Heero a sympathetic look and was about to go see what Duo had found when Heero reached into his pocket to grab their hotel keys. He held Duo and Sally’s out to her. “I’m going to head back,” he explained plainly.

She took them with a nod and smiled. “Okay. See you tonight, then. Thanks for coming, this was fun.”

“Yeah. No problem,” Heero murmured.  
  
As he left the shop he spotted the space camp kids from earlier standing beside one of the research buildings across the museum campus. Above them a massive banner had been strung up. Large, modern white block lettering read ‘EXPLORE YOUR UNIVERSE, SUPPORT S.T.E.M. EDUCATION’. Trowa’s passive face was beside it, his eyes calm and almost glittering with confidence, the corner of his mouth curled up into a slight, encouraging smile. The angle the photograph had been taken gave the illusion that Trowa’s eyes were following him as he crossed the open square and headed for the parking lot to hail a cab back to the hotel.

“Hey! Wait a minute! Slown down!”

Heero paused and looked over his shoulder. Duo was jogging down the cement walkway towards him, a small, white plastic bag in hand.

“Whew. Shit…” the American said as he stopped and doubled over, his hands on his knees while he caught his breath. “Your power walk could give Richard Simmons a run for his money…”

“What is it?” Heero asked blandly. “I gave your room key to Sally-”

“Yeah… yeah, I know.” Duo straightened up and thrust his arm out, holding the small bag out in offering. “I feel bad for pissin’ ya off. I wanted to make amends.”

Heero took the bag and hesitantly looked inside. A small, colorful plastic keychain. He fished it out with his fingers and inspected it. It was a little LEGO figurine, its blocky body dressed in the bright blue NASA jumpsuit with a miniature logo printed over the right breast. The opposite side bore the ESA logo, and the French flag. It’s expression was impassive, and its reddish-brown plastic hair was molded forward to occlude its right eye.

It was Trowa. As a LEGO.

Heero looked up at Duo, his eyes narrowing. Before he could say anything Duo clapped him roughly on the shoulder and grinned.

“I thought you’d like it, ya know, since you’re so attached to that damn cardboard version,” he explained with a mischievous grin. He ducked as Heero’s hand shot out to cuff his ear, it barely missing him by a few centimeters. “Now-now, don’t damage the goods. You’re gonna need me on that bumpy ascent, remember?”

The American practically danced backwards, gave Heero a wave and took off back down the walkway. At the far end Sally was standing beside the gift shop. She smiled and tried to wave at him, but her arms were too encumbered with shopping bags.

Heero frowned. He turned around and scowled down at the keychain, tossed it in the bag, marched up to a trash can and attempted to toss it in but hesitated before it fell from his fingers. Arm stiff, he looked over his shoulder and peered down the walkway. Duo and Sally had vanished. His dark eyes locked onto the bag and narrowed. With a sigh he fished out the little keychain Trowa, stuffed it into his pocket and discarded the bag.


	3. Chapter 3

**_La Quinta Inn_ ** ****_[1]  
_ **_Cocoa Beach Florida, United States_ ** **_  
_ ** ******_Saturday September 11, 2004_**

 

“You sure you don’t wanna go down to the pool? I hear there’s a women’s volleyball team soakin’ up the sun down there,” Duo teased with a grin as he tossed his towel over his bare shoulder and shifted happily in his flip flops.

Heero frowned and looked over his shoulder and out into the open square where the outdoor pool was fenced off. It seemed pleasant enough. A warm breeze blew through the palm trees, the late afternoon sun shining cheerfully through the fronds.

He was tired. After spending 12 hours training on simulators for space shuttle piloting procedure he could barely see straight. He was hearing emergency alarms in his sleep, their persistent ringing echoed nonstop in his ears.  
  
“Maybe,” he finally conceded.

“Well ya better hurry up before they run out of daiquiris down at the bar.” Duo gave him a good natured pat on the shoulder before he shuffled off across the open balcony walkway to the staircase, whistling Frank Sinatra’s _“Fly Me To The Moon”_ as he went.

Heero found himself standing in the doorway to his room and staring at the crowded pool. He didn’t want to be around crowds. He wasn’t _supposed to,_ or at least they were encouraged to avoid crowds until the last two weeks of their training. However, the water did look inviting and he couldn’t help but think of how similar it would be to floating in microgravity. Finally he decided to just bite the bullet and go down for a few minutes. Just for a brief float in the pool, and then he’d leave.

Five minutes later he was flip-flopping down a cement sidewalk to the gated pool. Duo had been right. All of the chairs were taken by women’s professional volleyball players, lounging and laughing to each other. In the center of a nearby cluster of chairs was Duo wearing a pair of neon pink swim trunks with little blue hammerhead sharks on them, holding a massive strawberry daiquiri, sipping contentedly through a straw. He had a yellow cocktail umbrella tucked behind his ear and was grinning like a man who had won the lottery.

As much as Duo Maxwell annoyed the hell out of him, Heero couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of the American looking so happy. Space was a lonely place, and soon they would all be isolated from humanity for months, unable to really enjoy the company of strangers. It was nice to see Duo in his element.

“Heero! Hey! I got you a drink!” Duo called from his harem of ladies, pointing to a nearby table with an angry looking Tiki glass filled with something slushy and blue.  
  
“Thanks.” Heero gave the ladies a nod, ducked his head to avoid talking to anyone and kicked off his flip flops. He toed them under a nearby table, dropped his towel on the fencing around the pool and padded over to the deep end.

The last time he’d been in a pool was at the Neutral Buoyancy Laboratory back in Houston to log hours EVA training. He hadn’t had a chance to feel the water against his skin, but rather had been hoisted in and out of the water by crane in a 310 lb space suit.

He could feel the retreating sun on his back, warming his skin. It was amazing how enjoyable sunlight was on Earth. On the ISS the sun and its radiation was the enemy, a villain lurking in every corner of the station threatening to cause harm to all on board. He adjusted his plain, navy blue swim trunks, curled his toes over the beveled edge of the pool and after taking a deep breath dove in.

The water, shockingly cold in comparison to the pleasantly warm coastal wind, and it forced his skin to tighten and his scalp to tingle. It took him a second to adjust before he aimed himself at the bottom of the pool, kicked hard and propelled himself downwards. His hands pressed against the rough cement bottom. He waited a few moments before pushing himself roughly upwards, surfaced with a gasp, shook his wet bangs from his eyes and went limp to allow the water to cling to his back and hold him afloat.

He stretched his arms and legs out as far as they would go and closed his eyes, letting the sun heat his stomach and chest while the cool water lapped at his shoulders. Through the distortion of the water in his ears he could hear Duo laughing, his voice mingling with the cheerful giggles of female voices at the poolside.

 

* * *

  

“Damn. It’s crowded. I hate crowds,” Wufei muttered as he tugged at the ends of the towel draped over the back of his neck. Despite the fact that there wasn’t a free chair in sight he continued stomping along down the path to the gate that led inside the pool area, Trowa in tow. He glanced over his shoulder at him and raised an eyebrow. “You forgot your towel. Not going in?”

Trowa shrugged his shoulder in response and dug around in the pocket of his dark green banana print swim trunks and fished out his cigarettes. The box was flat, he only had two left. His last two before launch, at least that's what he’d promised himself. He had made that same promise three packs ago…

As they entered the gated pool area Wufei spotted Duo on the opposite side, doing what he did best. Schmoozing. He decided to stay away and avoid being drawn into any of Duo’s shenanigans. Near the deep end was a table with nothing but a drink on it and a pair of flip flops underneath. Wufei made a beeline for the bare corner and dropped his towel down beside the Tiki glass and looked over his shoulder at Trowa.

“As your personal physician, I should remind you that there are more than 480,000 deaths a year directly linked to cigarette smoking. If you want to _look cool_ , you could try quitting the cancer sticks and maybe think about getting a new pair of swim trunks.” Wufei glanced down at the large, happy-looking yellow bananas scattered across Trowa’s crotch.

“My sister gave them to me for Christmas last year. Don’t be jealous.” Trowa frowned over at his friend. “And I’m aware these things are pushing me towards an early grave. I’m trying to quit.” Regardless of the hopeful statement he put the cigarette between his lips and held his lighter up. “Just let me finish this quick…”

“A slave to your habit. Alright, you can play Puff The Magic Dragon over here by yourself, I’m getting in before Maxwell and those girls take up all the water.” Wufei kicked off his flip flops and walked to the edge of the pool, sat down and began to ease himself in. He had spotted Heero floating in the center of the deep end and was making his way in to join him.

“-And that’s Trowa Barton. You may recognize him from all of our billboards and stuff. He’s our resident hottie,” Duo was saying loudly from the opposite side of the pool. “Yo, Tro! You goin’ in, or maybe you wanna come over here and play poker with us?” The American gestured at the table in the middle of the cluster of ladies he was sitting with. Cards littered the table and a few dollars were bunched up in the center of the game.

“Maybe later.” Trowa blew smoke out of his mouth and walked over to the white railing that surrounded the pool area, leaned against it and looked out at the horizon. He was feeling stressed, which was why the pack of cigarettes in his back pocket was almost empty. He’d been a social smoker in college, but it hadn’t formed into a bad habit until he’d returned to earth after his last mission. Now he was using the cancer sticks as a way to cope with his nerves. He knew he needed to stop, but he had bigger problems to worry about, like his mental wellbeing.

While Trowa was excited to return to space soon, his anxiety was at an all time high, causing him to become unusually reclusive in an attempt to hide it. The _old_ Trowa would be in the pool already with his friends, chatting confidently and having fun. The _new_ Trowa needed to hide behind a puff of smoke while he got his bearings.

He placed his hand on the railing and felt it tremble as he worked at calming his nerves. Like Wufei, he wasn't a fan of crowds and for some reason all of the day’s stress had been piling up inside him. He‘d been having a difficult time focusing in the simulators, and it had made him uncomfortably tense. Right now he just needed a few moments to collect himself before joining his friends in the pool.

“Yeah, that guy over there is as cool as a cucumber,” Duo explained to the girls around the table. He lifted his hand of cards to his face and began sorting them with a grin. He never had the knack for keeping up a poker face.

 

* * *

  

Wufei floated happily on his back and watched the high, fluffy white clouds float along with him as the sky beyond them began to turn pink and purple with the sunset. Eventually he bumped into Heero, but made no effort to move.

“What’s the formula for Generalized Pareto Distribution?” Wufei asked without turning his head to look at Heero.

“Hm. You’re really asking me to define propellant distributions in the pool?” Heero asked without opening his eyes.

“I mean, if you don’t know it, I’m sure Barton would know…” teased Wufei.

Heero lifted his head slightly and opened his eyes to casually skim the side of the pool. Wufei was floating contentedly beside him, Duo was still engaged with his fangirls and off in the corner he could see Trowa leaning on a railing by himself, his back to them, a puff of cigarette smoke curling over his shoulder.

“Maybe I’ll ask him.” Before Wufei could make some smart ass remark he rolled onto his stomach and breast stroked his way to the edge of the pool. After hauling himself out and patting himself dry with his towel he slid his flip flops on and shuffled over to lean his elbows against the railing next to Trowa. “Are you okay?”

Trowa startled at his words and looked over at him, his jaw clenched tightly before relief softened his features as he recognized Heero. The cigarette between his index and middle finger was now nothing more than a stub.

“Hey,” Trowa offered a weak smile and pushed off of the railing to straighten up. “I’m good. Are you done swimming?”

Heero didn’t believe him. He knew Trowa’s nonverbal cues almost as well as he knew how to calculate flight vectors. Trowa was stressed. He hadn’t intended on staying in the pool very long, but if Trowa was going to be there he’d stay a little longer.

“Not done. You coming in?” Heero asked casually before jerking a thumb in the direction of Duo and his makeshift casino. “Or were you planning on joining in on that action?”

Trowa shook his head and put his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. “No… I’m not the best at poker. I’d lose all my money.”  He looked over Heero’s shoulder at Wufei floating around the deep end on his back. “He talked me into coming down here. I guess the least I can do is get a little wet.”

With a nod Heero followed him to the poolside and set his flip flops aside while Trowa emptied his pockets on the table. He noticed the nearly empty pack of cigarettes and lighter and couldn’t recall Trowa having a smoking habit in the past. Was this new? If so, when did it start?

As they approached the deep end Wufei looked over at them and smiled. “You might as well enjoy this while you can, it’s going to be a long time before you get to be THIS WET without your water floating away from you,” the Chinese man said with amusement.

Heero watched Trowa sit on the edge of the pool and drop long his legs into the water to test it. He sat down beside him and studied his face. Pre-flight training was a tense time for everyone. Nerves were often shot, nobody could sleep, stress became overabundant. He didn’t know why but he had the sudden urge to do something unexpected, something that would get everyone’s minds off of their work. Especially Trowa.

Without a word he shoved Trowa into the pool.

The taller man tumbled into the water, completely taken off his guard and sank to the bottom of the pool. Heero blinked, having not expected Trowa to just fall in without a fight or even a flail of his arms. He leaned over and peered down, suddenly worried. Had Trowa hit his head on the way in?

Suddenly the French astronaut kicked off of the bottom of the pool and broke the water’s surface in a dramatic display, back arched and head thrown back like the scene from _The Little Mermaid._ Once he’d caught his breath he pushed his hair from his face, rubbed his eyes, and then directed a playful glare in Heero’s direction. “…really? You don’t play fair, do you?” 

Heero clutched the cement edge of the pool tightly and smirked down at Trowa. “Survival training,” he explained in a flat voice before giving his submerged feet a rough kick, sending a splash in Trowa’s direction.

Wufei was treading water nearby. He rolled his eyes. “How old are you again? I’m surrounded by children,” he grumbled loudly.

Trowa had dodged the splash that was kicked in his direction and swam over to the edge. “Survival training, huh?” Before Heero could splash him again Trowa had grabbed his legs and yanked him into the pool.

They both vanished in a froth of bubbles. Heero dropped down to the bottom of the pool as Trowa resurfaced. He could hear Wufei’s distorted voice. “Well, looks like we’re going to have to call Heero’s alternate _again._ If he’s dead, I’m not going to be the one performing CPR. I’m off the clock…”

As Trowa tread water and turned to look for him Heero quickly swam around behind him, grabbed his waist with both hands, tugged him roughly under the water and surfaced with a gasp and began to laugh as Trowa vanished beneath him.

“BANZAI!”  
  
The entire scene was suddenly plunged into chaos as Duo made a spectacular cannonball entrance that landed beside Wufei, which caused a giant wake of water to overtake the scowling Chinese man. The deep end filled with churning water, flailing limbs and bikini-clad bodies as Duo’s new friends leapt into the pool to join them.

Trowa surfaced in front of Heero. Their faces were only inches apart as he steadied himself and rubbed the chlorinated water from his eyes.

“I think you passed,” Heero said softly, treading water with both hands to keep afloat. He was painfully aware of how close Trowa was to him, and even though he wanted an excuse - any excuse - to touch him, he resisted. “Survival training, that is.”

“Thanks, commander.” Trowa said as he leaned in to boldly press his wet forehead against Heero’s.

Heero hadn’t expected Trowa’s face to come any closer. His entire field of vision suddenly became filled with Trowa’s brilliant green eyes as water droplets exchanged between both their wet hairs, running in rivulets down his forehead and face. He froze up, stunned.

The last time Trowa’s face had been so close to his own Heero had every intention of kissing him. It felt like that moment had been an eternity ago. Things had been simple then. Finally Trowa had returned from space and confusion about where they stood had appeared to have been cleared up. Trowa was available. He hadn’t backed away from Heero’s advances, nor had he shied away from his touch. Their mouths had been so close, but Heero had hesitated. That hesitation had costed him his chance at a kiss, a gesture he had waited months to give. That kiss still remained on his lips, undelivered.

_He has to know what he’s doing_ , Heero’s mind instantly provided as he detected the smile hidden in Trowa’s eyes. _He wants this as much as I do…_

Either Trowa was trying to signal him, distract him, or was just a hopeless flirt. Heero couldn’t tell which but lost in the moment he couldn’t find it in him to care.

For the moment they were just two guys in a pool, fucking around. Heero and Trowa. There wasn’t a mission there. Neither of them wore any rank now. They were simply two friends.

Two people that had the potential to be _something more_.

Heero felt the gravitational pull intensify between their mouths. All his worries about rank and appropriateness were completely lost, erased from his mind by the half-lidded eyes in front of him. For the second time since coming to know Trowa he leaned in to finally give him the kiss he had intended for him so many months before.

Instead of meeting Trowa’s smooth, wet mouth he was met by a rush of water that forced its way up his nose. He had been unceremoniously dunked under water by that saboteur, Trowa Barton.

When Heero surfaced he fell into a violent coughing fit, the water that had suddenly rushed his nose burning his sinuses. Trowa had all but vanished somewhere beneath the water out of sight.

There was no way Heero was going to let him get away with that. After catching his breath he kicked off of of the nearby wall to wade further into the center of the pool in search of his assailant, on a mission to exact his revenge.

As he paddled carefully through the crowded pool he felt something brush against his foot. He quickly turned around and peered into the rippling water behind him and searched the darkened water. He couldn’t see anything. Suddenly he felt a rough tug against his left ankle before being momentarily pulled under, however this time he had been been ready for another attack. His hand shot out quickly to grab Trowa’s leg as the other young man tried to make a hasty retreat.

They struggled against one another under the water, Trowa attempting to flee while Heero clung to his kicking leg with an unrelenting grip. Their playful game soon became a battle of wills. Both were strong and accomplished swimmers. There wasn’t a weaker party.  
  
Heero reeled Trowa in by his wiggling leg. They began to sink to the bottom as they struggled against one another. Heero pulled him into a tight, playful hug in an attempt to capture him, preventing his escape. Lean, toned bodies slipped against one another in the struggle. Heero felt Trowa’s hands grabbing his shoulders, his fingernails inadvertently digging into the soft, pliant muscles of his straining shoulders.

Heero lost his grip as Trowa wrenched his body upwards, pushed against Heero’s shoulders and broke free.

As Trowa’s body slipped out of his arms Heero attempted to catch him again, his palms uselessly sliding across Trowa’s retreating form, unable to find purchase against his slippery skin. He was gone, shooting up like a rocket to the surface.

Heero finally followed suit, his lungs burning for air. When his head broke from the water he could hear Trowa laughing and felt a splash of water envelope his already drenched face.

“Boys, are you having all the fun without me?”

Heero blinked away the water and looked up at the edge of the pool. Sally Po was smiling down at them with her hands on her hips, wearing a flattering black one-piece swimsuit, her foot testing the water.

“Sally’s here, now it’s a party!” Duo called out from the far end of the pool. “You comin’ in?” He back stroked over to Sally with a grin.

“I don’t know, this looks a little too wild for me,” Sally replied playfully as she retracted her foot.

“You’d do well to stay in the shallow end,” Wufei warned her as he tried to weave his way through the volleyball players. “The _boys_ are horseplaying.”

Heero saw Trowa look over his shoulder at Wufei, who was dog paddling through the throng of volleyball players like a man on a mission to _not_ have any fun. The flight engineer cast a meaningful glance at Heero, the corner of his wet mouth perking mischievously. “What do you say?” Trowa murmured softly, one of his manicured eyebrows raising at Heero to mark his question.

Heero nodded. He knew exactly what Trowa had in mind without him having to even say it.

“Get him,” he replied. Trowa smiled and took off after Wufei, Heero close behind him.

Wufei looked up just in time to see them closing in on him. “What are you two doing? Wait…. Wait a minute! Yuy! Barton! Don’t you dare!”

Five minutes later Wufei had been thoroughly dunked and playfully accosted. He managed to pull himself out of the pool before Duo could join in on his torment. “I’m surrounded by idiots,” he grumbled.

Sally had waded into the shallow end and kept well enough away from the other astronaut’s boyish game. Heero and Trowa approached the shallow end, having made a pact not to dunk each other.

“Nice shorts,” she teased Trowa, laughing as she spotted the pattern on his bathing trunks.

“I have good taste, what can I say?” Trowa smirked and leaned against the edge of the pool as Sally was floating in front of him. “Have you had your daily dose of potassium?”

Sally laughed. “Well I _do_ feel a leg cramp coming on, and I hear bananas are good for that sort of thing,” she replied playfully.

Heero frowned as he watched Sally and Trowa’s banter back and forth. He knew that they got along well, he had seen evidence of it during his time as CAPCOM, but he couldn’t help but feel jealous at their casual interactions. They were something he could never truly have with Trowa, and though he didn’t harbor any animosity towards Sally it still made him secretly envious.

Deciding to take a break from the pool and to get out of earshot of Trowa and Sally’s flirty comments, he slid slowly through the water, avoiding Duo’s new girlfriends, and pulled himself out. Back facing the pool he decided to give the blue Tiki drink a taste test while he watched his colleagues mess around from the sidelines.

Nearby Duo and his new friends were playing pool games.   
  
“Marco!” A pretty redhead yelled across the pool, groping around with her eyes closed.

“POLO!” Duo replied before ducking under the water to avoid her.

“Sally, are you a poker player?” Wufei asked from the edge of the pool. “Would you like to play?”

Sally smiled and quirked an eyebrow at their mission surgeon. “I didn’t peg you as the card playing type, Wufei.”

The Chinese man shrugged and made his way to the edge of the pool. “Well, I’m not usually, but I figured I would brush up on my skills before our pre-launch game against the commander.” It was a custom for the crew to play cards before launch. They would have to play as many hands as it would take for Heero to lose. “I honestly can’t remember the rules, it’s been so long.”

Sally laughed and pulled herself effortlessly over the edge and began to dry off. “I can teach you. I was quite the card shark in college.”

Heero decided that coconut rum was probably his favorite alcohol. Whatever the drink was that Duo had left for him, it was 90% coconut rum, and he liked it. Before he knew it he was sucking an empty straw. He set the empty glass aside and saw that Sally had vacated the pool and was sitting nearby at a card table with Wufei discussing various poker strategies. Duo continued playing some form of grabby, deranged form of Marco Polo with his lady friends and Trowa had pulled himself out of the pool at the shallow end, and was wringing out his soggy swim trunks.

Whenever Trowa wasn’t actively engaged with anyone his default expression used to be that of confident, introspective calm. At least that was what Heero remembered him looking like when watching him through the COM from Houston. Ever since his return from space, Trowa always defaulted to a different mood. He had a different face. The change had been subtle, but it was just enough for Heero to notice. Rather than calm, cool and collected Trowa’s eyebrows were always gathered together, his eyes narrowed, as if he were on the losing end of a debate in his head.

Heero hated to see him look that way. A part of him desperately wanted to _fix it_ , to make whatever he was warring with better. Now, Trowa was no longer the quiet guy but the aloof, almost unapproachable one.

The new standoffish behavior wasn’t normal for the French astronaut, who had on his former mission been the main attraction of the live broadcasts and, despite being quiet, always appeared comfortable with himself. Outgoing. Now he seemed as if something was holding him back, as if he was carrying a heavy burden on his shoulders.

Or a ghost.

Heero could recall traditional Japanese stories his mother had told him of people being haunted by the ghosts of others, and that the spirit of the deceased person would literally hang on the back of their victim, clinging to the living person’s shoulders, forcing them to slowly deteriorate under the weight of the memory of their death.

Heero had never really considered the meaning of that story until now.

He carefully approached Trowa at the poolside. “Finished swimming?” he asked casually.

“Yea, actually. I was just about to head back to my room.”

“I’ll walk you back,” Heero offered.

Trowa nodded and grabbed his cigarettes and room key card off the table.

Heero slid his sandals on, wrapped his damp towel around his waist and fell into step beside Trowa as he slipped out of the gated pool area. As they neared the main building Heero could hear a crescendo of laughter from behind them. Duo and his new lady friends were all vacating the pool as well. The grinning American astronaut was flanked by girls in bikinis and looked happier than Heero had ever seen him.

“We’re off to the bar to shoot some billiards and maybe play some Texas Hold ‘Em,” Duo announced as he neared. “You guys wanna come?”

Heero glanced over at Trowa, who was smirking but shaking his head. “No thanks,” he answered for them both.

“Aw, c’mon, it’ll be fun! Not into poker? How about some karaoke?” One of the girls asked as she leaned on Duo’s shoulder, grinning.

“Well Trowa’s your go-to guy for singin’,” Duo said as he snaked an arm around her waist. “I don’t think we could get Heero to even hum a tune, let alone sing. He’s more of a Russian roulette kinda guy,” he paused and chuckled before continuing in wonky Russian, “aren’t you comrade?”

Heero snorted under his breath and answered back, his own Russian accent coming forth naturally as he spoke, “I’d never challenge the self-proclaimed ‘ _God Of Death_ ’ to a game of chance. It would be embarrassing for you if you lost.”

Duo Maxwell had a macabre sense of humor. Ever since he was a kid he was always having close-calls and brushes with death, and always jokingly said that the Grim Reaper had refused to take him because Hell wasn’t ready for him yet. He had shown Heero his skull montage tattoo once during a drunken conversation at a party. It was one of the few personal things Heero knew about the American astronaut.

Duo laughed. “Embarrassed? I’d be dead! Then who would do all the crappy grunt work on the station, huh? Not you, Commandant,” he said quickly, his Russian sloppy but adequate. He shrugged his shoulders gave them a small parting wave as he led his small party in the direction of the bar. “Oh well,” he had reverted back to English, “guess I’m just going to have to serenade these ladies with some Guns N’ Roses all by myself. Goodnight, nerds.”

Heero watched Duo retreat to the shabby looking hotel bar with his new friends. More than likely he’d wake the next morning worn out and hung over, a condition that was frowned upon by their mission planners, but necessary for the American astronaut. Heero remembered the last time he had been on the ISS with Duo, the guy thrived on social interaction. While others were more than content to have limited human contact for months in orbit Duo seemed to wither away with each passing day. It was a wonder he continued to go up there at all. Heero was certain the only reason Duo continued to travel to the ISS was for the thrill and notoriety it brought him.

He turned to Trowa, who was watching the gaggle of girls vanish through the bar’s peeling paint doors.

“How are your language skills holding up?” Heero asked curiously as he fell into step beside the taller man as they made the short walk to their rooms. Trowa sighed and shrugged a shoulder in response.

“It’s been a while since I’ve used Russian in conversation. I have no trouble reading it but sometimes I still get hung up on the speaking part,” he admitted.

Heero nodded. “I can help you practice a little if you want.”

NASA required that all astronauts working on the ISS learn the Russian language before departure. The International Space Station had been constructed as a joint project with the Russian Space Agency which meant that all of the operation manuals and much of the equipment in their modules were in Russian.

That, along with the need to communicate with the Russian cosmonauts who frequently worked alongside them, made the need to learn Russian imperative. It was one of the hardest adjustments many astronauts had to make. These were engineers, scientists and pilots- not linguists.

Heero’s father was Russian and growing up he had been exposed to both Japanese and Russian in his home. It had given him the advantage of being multilingual, which had given him a competitive edge when competing for the commander position for this mission.

They had reached Trowa’s room which was three doors down from Heero’s. Trowa’s hand was on the doorknob, his expression unreadable. “Sure, if you don’t mind,” he replied.

“I don’t mind at all,” Heero replied as he fished his own key card out of the hidden pocket in his waistband. “We can stay in tonight and just order a pizza, I can go over some grammar tips with you.”

Trowa smirked. “Alright. Your room or mine?”

Heero smiled. “Yours. Mine is a mess.” The night before he had fallen asleep in a pile of training manuals and schematic maps and had yet to pick any of it up. “I’ll be over in half an hour.”

Trowa nodded. “Okay. It’s a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] The La Quinta Inn in Cocoa Beach was originally built to house the astronauts of the U.S. Mercury space program and boasts itself as the “Home Of The Original 7 Astronauts”.


	4. Chapter 4

**_La Quinta Inn_ ** ****_  
_ **_Cocoa Beach Florida, United States_ ** **_  
_ ** ******_Saturday September 11, 2004_**

 

Trowa looked down at the shiny black Omega Speedmaster[1] lying on the counter. It’s consistent beeping warned him that he had exactly 5 minutes to get dressed before Heero came over to help him practice his Russian.

The fluffy hotel towel shimmied up his long limbs, collecting scattered droplets of water as he quickly erased the evidence from his long, relaxing shower. With a sigh Trowa finished drying off, hung the towel back on the rack, combed his fingers through his damp hair, and then turned to observe his naked body in the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door.

After his time in space he’d lost a good amount of weight and muscle mass, which had left him feeling extremely self conscious. Now, thanks to months of dedicated training and hours spent at the gym, Trowa could finally look in the mirror and admire his hard work with confidence.

His eyes followed the lines of his toned physique, gaze traveling south until it settled on his nether regions, an area he was ashamed to admit he’d been neglecting. Stress had successfully put an end to his libido, and the object of his desire seemed unattainable, leaving Trowa constantly frustrated and wanting.

_Heero…_

Trowa frowned at his reflection as his thoughts started to drift. He’d spent all afternoon at the pool flirting with the one person he _desperately_ wanted and now his body had decided to react to the pent-up sexual tension. Fingers instinctively wrapped around his semi-aroused member, giving a gentle squeeze before Trowa quickly dropped his hand and thought better of it. There wasn’t time to do anything about this. Heero would be knocking on his door any minute now and he still wasn’t dressed. He needed to remind himself that their relationship had to be professional. Complicating things would potentially jeopardize the next 8 months in space and he knew neither of them wanted that.

But did Heero have feelings for him? Heero had tried to kiss him twice now. _Twice._ And when they’d first met up last month Heero had been trying to tell him something before they’d been interrupted.

_‘Listen, I just want you to know that I really-‘_

Really what?

What had he been thinking when he’d agreed to ‘study time’ in his room? Trowa had never been alone with Heero in private before. This was a bad idea, he couldn’t trust himself around the other. Not when it was so easy to flirt with Heero.

Suddenly, smoldering blue eyes manifested in his mind and a pink flush crept across his cheeks. Trowa imagined Heero standing there with him, his compact, naked body pressing against his own while they studied their reflections in the mirror.

What would he do if Heero were there now? If they had been dating?

_…_

That was a stupid question. Trowa knew _exactly_ what the answer was. They’d be tangled in the sheets on the bed, exploring each other’s bodies all night and into the early hours of the morning. He’d marvel at how Heero’s warm, bare skin felt against his own and he’d enjoy the soft sounds that escaped Heero’s lips as he pleasured him.

The flush on Trowa’s cheeks darkened and he quickly looked away from the mirror. His thoughts were cut off by a noise coming from the main area of his hotel room, drawing his attention away from his daydreams and back into reality.

The radio was playing, set to some ‘top 40 hits’ station that Trowa wasn’t impressed with so far. The current song was obnoxious and it grew louder as he made his way out of the bathroom and over to his suitcase across from the bed. He dug through his clothes while Usher’s voice repeatedly sang out, ‘Yeah!’

“Yeah, you’re horrible at writing lyrics…” Trowa murmured to no one in particular as he pulled out a white t-shirt and his royal blue NASA running shorts. He slipped his clothes on just in time to hear the prominent knock on his door.

 

* * *

 

Heero had what Duo lovingly referred to as a ‘cop knock’ which consisted of three, hard and sharp raps of his knuckles against the door. It always had an air of urgency and officiality to it.

When Trowa opened the door Heero nearly dropped the Domino’s pizza box he’d been clutching between his hands. He had expected Trowa to answer the door, sure, but he hadn’t anticipated the eyeful of smooth, firmly muscled leg that greeted him. A scent wafted from the room, invoking thoughts of raw honey and fields of clover. Shampoo? Trowa had just showered, his hair still damp, his white t-shirt clinging to his water-warmed skin.

“ _Dobryy vecher_ ,” Heero greeted him with a standard ‘good evening’ in Russian. He held up the pizza box and added in English, “I hope you like pepperoni?” _Good. A change of subject. Focus on the pizza, not on the way Trowa’s running shorts hug his hips and creep up the insides of his smooth thighs._   
  
“Are you ready for practice?” Heero added quickly, clearing his throat in an attempt to clear away his inappropriate thoughts.

“I am.” Trowa replied in Russian as he stepped aside to let the other in. There wasn’t a lot of seating in the hotel room, but there was an office chair next to the desk in the corner. Trowa grabbed the back of it and wheeled it over to position it at the edge of the bed, turned the radio off and offered Heero the seat.

Heero took the offered seat and muttered a quick ‘thank you’ in Russian, set the pizza box on the desk and watched as the other astronaut stood nearby. Seated, he was now at eye level with those shorts. He decided to swivel the chair around and focus on the pizza box instead. He opened it, grabbed a slice and held it out in offering to Trowa.

“Alright, so maybe we should just continue a casual conversation first,” Heero said, his Russian coming easily to him. He couldn’t help but smirk as he continued. “This is pizza. Pizza is hot, cheesy, sticky. Would you like some pizza?” He felt like a school teacher drilling an elementary student and smirked at the absurdity of it.

“Yes, please?” Trowa replied in Russian, sat on the edge of the bed in front of the other and accepted the slice. “What are your favorite pizza toppings?” He asked curiously, his Russian not as smooth as Heero’s.

Heero shrugged and grabbed a slice for himself and studied it before saying, “I don’t much care for pizza, actually, but I knew it was one of the few things I could get delivered to the hotel.” He paused and looked up from studying the greasy cheese to check on Trowa to see if he was keeping up. It appeared as if he understood him. “I did have a pizza in Russia once. I went to a pizzeria with my father, but the pizza there wasn’t the same as it is here. They top theirs with strange things. The pizza I ordered had dill on it.”

Heero picked off a piece of pepperoni and set it in the box. “What about you? What do you like to eat?” Trowa’s Russian wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. He tried to remain focused on their language lesson and not the other man’s shapely legs hanging off of the bed in front of him, tightly crossed.

Trowa finished his first slice and leaned back on the bed, propping himself up with his hands. “Hmmm… I like to eat all types of food. But I really enjoy Asian cuisine. Thai, Vietnamese, Japanese, to name a few.”

Heero blinked. It sounded like a come-on. He couldn’t help but smile at Trowa’s accent when speaking Russian, it was adorable. He had caught the slight innuendo the conversation had taken, and noticed Trowa flinch as he finished his last sentence. Suddenly having no appetite for pizza he set the slice aside and turned the chair back around to face him, his arms crossing over his chest, expression amused.

“That’s interesting,” he continued in Russian, “you’re the only European I’ve met who prefers Asian. I have to admit, I’ve never myself enjoyed anything authentically French before.”

“Not even a fresh baguette? What a shame.” Trowa spoke in French this time, locking eyes with the other as he smirked.

If Heero had any faith in a divine force he would have thrown down its name in vain. Trowa Barton was the single most alluring person he had ever seen and he had in that moment realized that he had never heard the other astronaut casually speaking _his_ _own_ language so comfortably before. French was much more pleasing to the ear than Russian, especially coming from him.

“No, never,” Heero finally broke their language practice with English and sighed. “Your grammar in Russian seems alright to me. You pronounce things oddly at times, but that is normal for all non-native speakers.” He cleared his throat again and tried to swallow back the strange tension that was building inside him. “I do think you should speak French more often, though.” _Because it’s hot…_ “As a tribute to your country. Maybe consider doing a broadcast in French while we’re there?”

“Only if you do one in Japanese.” Trowa straightened up. “Thanks for trying to help me with my Russian. It’s never going to be perfect, I’m afraid.”  

“Nobody’s Russian ever is, even Russians…” Heero replied with a smirk. “I don’t think if I tried to perfect French I could ever do so. There’s this thing your people do with their mouths, I just can’t grasp it.” The truth was speaking French felt like trying to pronounce things with your mouth full of potatoes. At least that was how Heero’s junior high French teacher had explained it.

“It’s like you’re speaking using the back of your tongue, rather than the tip of it.”

Trowa laughed. “ _Thing_ we do with our mouths?” He shook his head and leaned in closer to Heero. “What thing?” He asked in French.

“Maybe the mouth isn’t the best place to describe it, but it’s like you’re forming the word deep against the back of your tongue and then sending it up through your nose,” Heero tried to explain it the best he could. He wasn’t a linguist, he had no idea what the proper terminology for these sounds were. “Like with your ‘r’ sounds. In Japan we don’t have the same ‘r’ as you, and English ‘r’ is almost an afterthought. Russian is a lot like English, except with the occasional quick ‘r’ roll. You French have to curl your tongue and roll the ‘r’ out. I could never get the hang of that.”

Which was why he had dropped French classes as soon as he could, though now Heero was regretting having not stuck with it. He could be speaking French to Trowa right now instead of stumbling stupidly through his English explanation.

“Here, I’ll show you.” Heero pushed his chair closer and leaned his elbows on his knees. “English, r-over. Russian, r-uble. French, r-acaille…” He tried his best to illustrate the movement of his mouth with each word, emphasizing the fact that his lips hardly had to move to speak the French word.

“Okay, now say something in French,” he reached his hands up to gently cup the sides of Trowa’s face, pulling him closer so he could inspect his lips. “Say anything.”

“… I find you to be _extremely_ silly, Heero Yuy,” Trowa said confidently, his natural French accent rolling effortlessly from his lips. A faint blush colored his cheeks. “And _extremely_ attractive.”

Heero understood him perfectly, but he couldn’t trust his own translation. Lost in the conversation, and unable to pull away, he simply stared at him, his fingers curling slightly against the fine lines of Trowa’s cheekbones.

“What did you just say?” Heero demanded, needing clarification, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him. Trowa’s lips were parted and he had been so fixated on them, waiting to illustrate his point about language, that he found himself staring at them. Without thinking one of his thumbs escaped Trowa’s cheek to gently caress the corner of his mouth.

Trowa held his breath as Heero’s thumb traced a smooth outline along his lips and he gave his English translation in a hushed tone, “I said that you are silly. And… very attractive.”

Heero felt as if he was slowly waking from a dream, his mind thick with fog, unable to think straight. This was wrong, what they were doing. He should have never gone into Trowa’s room, should never have allowed himself to flirt with him and certainly shouldn’t have touched him. Doing so had set him on a course for reckless impropriety.

Even though logic dictated his guilt the feeling didn’t come. He should have pulled back and apologized but he didn’t. His mind was too preoccupied rejoicing over a verification of he had waited for almost a year to receive. Trowa had just admitted to liking him and he couldn’t help but feel elated by that knowledge.

Heero felt like a man possessed, as if Trowa’s words had summoned an undeniable force that had taken his body over to do as it pleased. Without removing his right hand from Trowa’s face he continued to slide his thumb across his lower lip, while his other promptly dropped down to creep up the side of Trowa’s exposed leg, palm cupping firmly against the back of his thigh. He had risen from his chair and found himself pressing against Trowa’s crossed knees.

“That’s what I thought you said,” Heero said softly, his lips hovering over Trowa’s mouth, their noses brushing together as he spoke.

Trowa’s body stiffened, but he didn’t move away. “Then you understand French just fine,” he murmured.

It would have been easy for Heero to lean forward and finally claim Trowa’s lips. Every cell in his body wanted it and desired that long-awaited contact, but a warning alarm was going off in the back of his mind, interrupting his thoughts.

_This is wrong. I’m crossing the line._ Heero’s fingers twitched, his hand hesitated against Trowa’s jawline. _I can’t do this._

“I’m sorry,” Heero’s voice came out light, breathy, lacking its usual confidence. He reluctantly dropped his hand from Trowa’s face but made no other attempt to put any distance between them. He couldn’t bring himself to retreat. “I’m being inappropriate,” he forced himself to say, his expression clearly portraying how unhappy he was to even think it.

“Don’t be sorry,” Trowa replied breathlessly. “I want this, this… ‘inappropriate’ attention. I like you. I thought it was obvious,” He reached down to grab Heero’s hand. “Don’t stop.”

It would have been easier to stop touching him if Trowa had slapped him instead. Heero frowned and turned his hand over in Trowa’s, clasping their palms together firmly. “I’ve liked you too, for a very long time,” he admitted. How could he have let things get to this point? He wasn’t sure if there was any going back now. He bit the inside of his cheek and sighed, feeling defeated. If only he could stop thinking and just act on his feelings. “But you know as well as I that these feelings come with complications.”

“I’m aware. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to explore them with you.” Trowa’s voice was calm and firm, even if his hand was shaking ever so slightly against Heero’s.

Frowning, Heero tightened his grip on Trowa’s hand and stepped to the side to take a seat beside him,  his eyes glaring holes into the tacky palm frond patterned carpet at their feet.

“I’m happy to hear you say that,” he murmured, even if he didn’t look it.

Heero wished he could be anyone else in that moment, instead of Trowa’s commander. His coworker, fellow astronaut, superior. How much easier would it be to just kiss him and not overthink it? “I really am.”

“But?” Trowa’s expression was serious, obviously waiting to hear what else he had to say.

“But I’m not allowed to fraternize with any of the crew. Especially after the situation last time, NASA has given all of us explicit instructions _not_ to engage in deeply personal relationships with coworkers to decrease the potential of crew conflict aboard the space station,” Heero recited the party line bitterly.

Trowa shook his head and looked away. “Then why are you holding my hand? Why did you try to kiss me at the pool today?”

Heero looked down at his hand, still firmly clutching to Trowa’s as if he were to release him the moment and the other astronaut would vanish forever. “Because I like you and I forgot who we were.” His fingers loosened and he slid his hand away, resting it on his own thigh, tapping his index finger anxiously. “-and I’m only human. Despite my reputation otherwise…”

“You like me and you know I like you back, but you aren’t going to act on your feelings?” Trowa asked in disbelief. His hand was lying against the bed in the same place Heero had left it, emerald green eyes staring at his own empty palm.

It was against Heero’s character not to express himself openly. Trowa was right, it was ridiculous, but he couldn’t shake his ever present sense of duty.

“I like you enough to want to protect you from ridicule, scrutiny and possible expulsion from the program for being involved with me.” Had he been given another ground control position rather than a spot alongside Trowa on the ISS he would have done as he pleased right then and there. It wouldn’t have mattered. Now he was risking everything by being in the same room with him. He had NASA’s reputation to consider, as well as Trowa’s and his own.

Gay relationships were still taboo in the space program. He would have weathered the controversy had he not been on the same crew, or assigned as Trowa’s commander.

“I can’t say that my coming here to your room had been completely innocent. I _did_ want to see you. I don’t know what I thought was going to happen-” the truth was he _hadn’t_ been thinking at all. He had allowed himself to be impulsive.

“We ate some pizza and practiced Russian. No rules were broken.” Trowa sighed and quickly stood up, his expression stoic despite the apparent rejection.

Heero matched Trowa’s movement and stood up as well. “Right.” The situation was growing awkward by the second, and he didn’t know what else to say. He was stuck in a vicious internal conflict between his personal wants and desires versus what was expected of him. His entire life that choice had been an easy one to make. He had never formed any meaningful relationships with anyone and instead focused on his career. As a result he had become lonely and somewhat of a recluse. Being with Relena had been easy, she was a _part_ of his career. Trowa was even more integrated in his working life, but that had ended up being the core of the problem. He couldn’t pursue him. Not now.

_Fuck._ Heero made his way to the door and let his hand rest on the handle. “I won’t apologize for how I feel about you. That hasn’t changed, and I doubt it will- but I am sorry that I can’t follow these feelings. I feel like what I’ve done tonight is unfair to you, that I’ve given you and for a moment myself a false hope, have refused to act, and now have essentially failed us both. I apologize, I didn’t mean for it to happen this way.”

Trowa looked down at the remains of the pizza and quickly closed the top of the box, carrying it over to the desk. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” He murmured, his back turned. “Goodnight, Heero.”

There wasn’t much else Heero could do to fix what had already been done. He forced himself to open the door and slipped out without another word, each step away from Trowa putting distance between him and the person he wanted most.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Omega Speedmaster: AKA the Moon Watch, worn by the astronauts on the Apollo 13 mission, rigorously tested for space use. It was critical for the Apollo crew to keep accurate time for activating precise engine burn. Very expensive and highly collectible.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Kennedy Space Center_ ** ****_  
_ **_Titusville Florida, United States_ ** **_  
_ ** ******_Monday September 13, 2004_**

 

“How’s he doin’?” Duo asked as he clapped his hand on Heero’s shoulder and peered down at the laptop on the desk in front of him. A live stream observation feed was on display on the monitor. It gave a real-time feed of the practice scenario their fellow crew mates were being tested on, with the observer having the ability to toggle between feeds. Heero had been observing the Russian cosmonaut Yelena Ivanov for some time.

“Don’t tell me Natasha there is kickin’ his ass,” the American astronaut said in a thick, poor Russian accent from behind him. Heero shrugged a shoulder and switched the feed to Trowa’s simulation.

“It’s not a competition,” Heero replied blandly, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. He wasn’t responsible for guiding this training nor was he in a position to grade them on their performances. As mission commander he was encouraged to check on the progress of his crew personally and was allowed to watch the training simulation at will.

“Yeah, sure. _Not_ a competition, from the guy who keeps a notebook just to record every little damn thing he does on the station,” Duo taunted him as he narrowed his eyes and leaned forward to peer at the screen.

“That information is for my own personal reference,” said Heero flatly.

“Okay, pal.” Duo pat his shoulder again and then pointed at the monitor. “What’s he doin’?”

Heero studied the feed and watched as Trowa tackled a power failure with ease. What was notable about his solution was that it wasn’t the textbook answer to the problem, and yet the flight engineer’s solution was efficient, quick and thorough. It was what Trowa had become known for.

“He’s being creative,” Heero replied softly, stifling a smile.

 

* * *

 

“System power has been restored,” Yelena reported confidently over her headset. She glanced to her right at the French astronaut and gave him a nod of approval. “Houston, permission to proceed?”

“Permission granted, you may proceed with the remainder of the operation checks,” the trainer playing the role of Mission Control CAPCOM said over the COM.

“That was unique,” Yelena said with a chuckle as she resumed her preliminary checks. Her gloved fingers traveled across the simulator controls with practiced ease. “They call you what, now? The Galactic MacGyver?”

“Only Duo calls me that.” Trowa corrected coolly. The braided astronaut liked giving everyone nicknames and sometimes they stuck. He dropped his hands down to his lap as he watched the screen in front of him light up.

“Well, your reputation precedes you Mister Barton,” she said cheerfully. “And you have definitely lived up to it. That was quite a trick you did. Have you ever considered a career with the Russian Space Agency instead?” She gave him a wink. “Unlike your American organization, we allow the consumption of spirits on board _our_ spacecraft. For scientific purposes of course.”

“That is definitely a benefit you have over NASA.” Trowa wondered if the two Russian cosmonauts joining them this mission would bring vodka with them. He reached over and pressed a button when a green box started to blink on screen. For the most part Yelena had everything under control.

“There are quite a number of benefits we have over NASA,” Yelena said casually as she ran through the checklist from memory, activating each system in turn. “Our program is known for many firsts, but I’m sure you are very much aware of our space program’s lucrative history. First man in space, first woman in space, first satellite in orbit-” she paused to focus on something before glancing over at Trowa, her eyebrow perked with amusement. “But I suppose you Europeans have beaten us to _one_ thing, yes? We’ve yet to perfect procreation and human reproduction in space.”

Trowa was well aware of all the Russian ‘firsts’. He glanced over at Yelena, watching her zoom through the checklist like a pro. “I wouldn’t say we’ve perfected it.” He thought about Noin and wondered how she was doing. The last he had heard was that she was experiencing a difficult pregnancy.

“No? Then perhaps we can work on perfecting it in the future. It could be a _joint_ mission, if you will…” She reached up to activate her headset once more, allowing their graders and training observers to hear their exchange. At some point she had turned it off. “Houston, we are ready for ascent.”

“Ascent acknowledged. All systems are go. Initiating countdown.”

As the controller counted down from 10 Yelena turned to look at Trowa, an amused smile on her face. The simulation began to launch and numbers started scrolling across dials, indicating their climbing altitude. The astronauts weren’t out of the woods yet. They would need to perform the ascent checklists as well. As Yelena began the process red indicator lights began to blink, errors scrolling across the screen.

 _“Derr’mo,_ ” Yelena cursed under her breath and began to fumble with her controls. The first order of business in a crisis was to assess the situation. The problem was she couldn’t immediately tell what was wrong.

“Oxygen saturation is dropping,” Houston chimed in. “Shuttle is experiencing sudden decompression.”

Yelena looked over at Trowa. His fingers were quickly manipulating dials, working out a solution.  
  
“Crew has thirty seconds before full inner atmospheric failure and potential loss of life,” Houston informed them stoically over their COM.

Ten seconds had passed. With each passing moment more alerts and alarms began to sound. The backup systems were not activating automatically. She slammed her hand down on the controls in an attempt to manually activate the cabin stabilizers but nothing happened. Her anxiety was mounting, the loud beeping and alarms grating at her nerves. Her companion, on the other hand, appeared incredibly calm and was carefully working through each solution. The situation was urgent, and yet he was poking around at the controls as if he were casually playing a video game.

“Well don’t just sit there. The cabin’s decompressing.” She could hear the annoyance in her own voice. “What’s your solution _flight engineer?!”_

Trowa suddenly stopped, hand hovering over the buttons as he sat unmoving. His eyes were turned down to the control panel, his expression blank. Yelena frantically tried to activate the system override but her panel wasn’t reacting to her command input.

“Fifteen seconds until total cabin decompression and potential loss of life,” Houston advised them over the COM.

Yelena was practically beating her control panel with her fist. “What the hell,” she snarled in Russian before looking over at Trowa, her face turning red. “We’re dying over here. Wake up!”

“Ten seconds…” Houston informed them.

Suddenly Trowa’s pale face looked up from his controls, his hand shot out and quickly manipulated his control panel, manually activating the backup life support systems. A few lights turned from red to green. He paused, tilted his head and bit his lip, his expression confused.  
  
“Five seconds…”

Finally he found his solution. His control panel lights all activated green, as did Yelena’s.  
  
“System stabilized. Cabin pressure returning to normal. Oxygen saturation nominal.”

Yelena’s hands were trembling. She grabbed the edge of the control panel to steady them. “Way to wait until the last minute,” she grumbled, shaken and annoyed.

“Ascension checklists completed,” Houston informed them. “Prepare for orbit procedures. Good job, you two.”

Yelena snarled. “Yes. Good job.”

 

* * *

  

His hand shook as he turned the dial to complete the combination on the padlock. This was his sixth time trying and he cursed in frustration as he messed up yet again. “ _Merde!_ Fucking piece of shit!”

Trowa slammed his fist against the locker and then quickly took a step back to cool down. Running both hands through his hair, he stood in the empty locker room and glared at the maroon colored locker in front of him. Was he really going to let a padlock defeat him? He knew he had the right combination, if only he could get his hand to relax enough to precisely line up the numbers. It wasn’t rocket science.

With a sigh he dropped his hands to his side and took a couple deep breaths in and out to calm himself.

_I can’t believe I almost failed... No wonder Yelena was so pissed off at me. I can’t even open a damn locker!_

He _hadn’t_ failed the stimulation, but he _had_ come close, which was unusual. Trowa never failed, so what the hell had just happened? He took in another deep breath and exhaled slowly, deciding he’d change out of his blue NASA jumpsuit before giving the padlock another try.

Steady footsteps preceded the figure who had entered the locker room. Heero appeared from around the corner, eyes widening as he saw Trowa standing there naked. He hesitated and turned his dark blue gaze up to stare at the large, circular NASA logo painted on the wall nearby.

“Is everything okay in here?” Heero asked, his face looked flush.

“Everything is great.” Trowa replied coolly and approached his locker again, starting on the combination for the eighth time. The fact that he was standing there in front of his commander with no clothes on didn’t seem to bother him. It was a locker room after all.

His fingers worked the padlocks dial slowly this time, lining up the little white line with each number until finally the combination was entered correctly and the lock popped open to free the contents inside. Trowa swung the door open with more force than necessary and reached in to grab his clean clothes.

Heero stepped closer and leaned his back on his own locker, which was situated almost directly across from his. He had crossed his arms over his chest, frowned and politely looked down at his feet.

“It’s normal to be frustrated. The Russians are very… abrupt sometimes,” he said slowly. “I wouldn’t take too much offense.”

“Yelena Ivanov doesn’t intimidate me,” Trowa slipped into his NASA polo and then reached for his purple boxer briefs. He ran them up his long legs until they came to rest over his hips, hugging them perfectly. His jeans slid from the locker and fell onto the ground, agitating his already frazzled nerves. Trowa stared down at them with a murderous expression.

“She can bark at me all she wants. Losing your temper like that isn’t going to help anyone. Especially while in space.” The cosmonaut’s erratic behavior wasn’t what had rattled Trowa, causing him to freeze up during the simulation.

It had been memories from the last time he’d had to deal with depressurization in space- from the accident. A cold shiver ran up his spine as he bent down to retrieve his jeans from the floor.

“You’re right,” Heero replied plainly, “So if she wasn’t the problem, then what happened? You can talk to me about it.”

Trowa was getting tired of keeping his PTSD a secret. Hiding it was hard, and he felt alone. There was no one there to help him work through his symptoms, and he didn’t feel completely like himself anymore. Talking to someone would be nice, since he wasn’t seeing his psychiatrist in Europe anymore, but he wasn’t sure he _could_ confide in his commander. What would Heero do if he told him? Would he pull him from the mission? He just couldn’t risk it.

He hesitated for a moment, carefully getting into his impossibly tight jeans while his back was turned towards the other. What had happened during his simulation training weighed heavily on his mind. He’d froze up, unable to think clearly or respond in a timely manner. Why?

Because the blinking red indicator lights on the simulation screen paired with the hypothetical threat of depressurization had triggered an unexpected flashback. He was transported back in time, to 9 months ago aboard the ISS. He still remembered the accident like it had happened only days ago- the loud sound of the alarms as the cabin began to depressurize, Milliardo’s hand reaching out from the black void of the Catalonia capsule as he struggled to hold on and pull him back, the moment of sheer terror when Trowa realized that he couldn’t save his crewmate, the sound of Heero’s calm voice instructing him to safety…  

Trowa shook his head and forced himself back into the present. The chill from space had followed him back to earth. He was always cold. Reaching into his locker he grabbed his blue NASA fleece and quickly tugged it on over his head before looking at Heero. “I just… I blanked out. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me. You haven’t done anything wrong,” Heero reminded him with a shrug. “And you passed your pre-flight simulations, so there’s no harm done. Just … if you ever need someone to talk to, confidentially, I’ll listen.” Trowa saw him rake his hand through his hair and shift his weight from one foot to the other. He appeared unsure of himself.

“So, your bags are packed and ready to go?” Heero added casually, as if he were trying to change the subject. ‘Bags packed’ was a little joke between astronauts, obviously they didn’t carry any luggage. “We’re going into quarantine soon. Do you have any plans?”

A week before shuttle launch all of the astronauts were forced into a strict quarantine which would limit their interactions with anyone outside of the flight control crew to avoid any contact with potential illness they could inadvertently ferry up to the station. Duo had already outlined his plans at breakfast. They had consisted of seeing every movie playing, eating a boat load of ice cream and hitting a party with some of the volleyball team before they left for their National Championships.

The truth was Trowa hadn’t given much thought to his last few days of ‘freedom’, he’d been so focused on the upcoming mission and on suppressing his PTSD. He folded his jumpsuit into his locker and closed the door before turning around to face Heero.

“My sister and nephew are flying out to see me before we launch. Other than that, I haven’t come up with a rigorous schedule yet.”

“Ah, good. That will be nice,” Heero replied with a sigh. “No trip to Disney World?”

It had been proposed by Duo that all of the astronauts take a trip to the Happiest Place on Earth, but the offer had been guffawed by everyone else, especially Wufei who lamented that crowds, overpriced snacks and people in cartoon animal costumes did _not_ sound like a good time. Nolan, Trowa’s nephew, would be a decent excuse for Trowa to go, unlike Duo who simply wanted funnel cakes and Dole whips[1].

Trowa shrugged casually. “We’ll see.” He didn’t have a ton of time to spend with his family and he knew Nolan would be more interested in checking out the Kennedy Space Center instead of hanging out with Mickey Mouse. “Do you have any plans?”

“No.” Heero replied coolly. “Probably just some last minute arrangements.”

A strange lull came over the conversation. Heero took a deep breath and pushed himself off of the locker to stand upright. “I was thinking about checking out one of those stupid jet fighter simulators at the mall. Maybe I’ll do that…” he didn’t sound very excited about it.

“You’ll have to let me know how they compare to the real thing.” It sounded like a fun activity and Trowa wanted to ask if he could join, but he knew hanging out with Heero alone and outside of work was probably a bad idea. Especially after the talk they’d just had a few nights ago. It was too hard keeping himself from flirting with the other. He sighed and looked over at the exit of the locker room.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.” Heero turned his back to him and began fumbling with his locker. “Have fun with your family,” he said over his shoulder.

Trowa hesitated and directed his gaze back in Heero’s direction. He bit his bottom lip as he watched the other, wishing things didn’t have to be so awkward between them, that the discussion they had the other night had never happened, or rather, that Heero had agreed to explore whatever feelings they had for each other. Ultimately Heero made the decision to keep things professional and Trowa’s heart had been aching ever since. A dull, lonely ache deep within his chest.

Soon he would be trapped in confined quarters with the one person he longed for but couldn’t have. It would be hell.

“Thank you. I’ll see you around…” With that Trowa quickly left the locker room.

 

* * *

 

 **_Kennedy Space Center_ ** ****_  
_ **_Titusville Florida, United States_ ** **_  
_ ** ******_Wednesday September 15, 2004_**

 

Heero stared down at the note he had found in his locker that morning. Relena’s impeccably neat, ornate handwriting read, “We need to talk. Have lunch with me? My treat.”

As Heero made his way down the hallway to the KSC Public Relations office to meet her he spotted Wufei standing at the end of the hallway talking to Relena.

Heero stopped and watched as the two exchanged words. Eventually she looked over her shoulder and spotted him, tapped her watch and gestured for him to come closer.

“It’s about time,” she snapped as she hopped up to her feet and gathered her bag up onto her shoulder. “I’m starving and you’re late.”

Heero checked his watch and sighed. “By two minutes.”

Relena rolled her eyes and stepped up to the curb to flag down one of the nearby waiting yellow cabs. “You hate being late,” she said flatly. “And used to give _me_ a hard time for it. What gives?”

He didn’t respond. She was right, he had been letting his standards slip lately, and he didn’t have a good reason why. It was as if his mind was too preoccupied with other things and he just didn’t have the energy to invest in the things he used to highly regard.

“Wufei,” Heero addressed his fellow teammate with a nod. Wufei smirked and pat him on the shoulder before wordlessly retreating down the hallway before Relena could make a show of berating him in front of the Chinese man again.

“What was that about?” Heero asked as he fell into step beside her as they made their way out the building and to the parking lot.

“Nothing much,” Relena murmured, her heels clicking across the tile floors of the front lobby. “I just had some questions about the Astronaut Hall Of Fame.”

Heero smirked. “You’re trying to get inducted in it? I’d hate to break it to you, but you have to be an astronaut to get in.”

Relena rolled her eyes. “Not me. Milliardo. I guess he’s been nominated, and they wanted to know if I could relay some information to Noin. She’s cut herself off from the organization for the time being, so anything anyone wants to ask her usually gets siphoned through me.”

“Hm.” Heero frowned and followed her to the nearest cab. The Astronaut Hall of Fame was located at the Kennedy Space Center, and to be inducted in it was a high honor. While Milliardo had definitely been a stellar astronaut, Heero felt that some of the survivors of the accident who lived with the reality and trauma of the situation deserved to be there more. Either way, it was a good way to commemorate Milliardo’s service to the ESA and NASA, and he wondered if it would help Noin to heal.

They rode to lunch in relative quiet, with Relena bringing up the occasional small talk. She was worried about her parents and how they were adjusting to the death of her brother. Apparently there was a book being written about his accomplishments. Noin wanted it published, but her parents didn’t want anyone capitalizing on his death. In response Noin said all of the proceeds from the book sales would go to charities Milliardo believed in, but Relena’s parents still weren’t satisfied. It was clear that they were still mourning and unable to look at the situation objectively.

The taxi dropped them off in front of Pistilli’s Pizzaria, a popular lunch spot in Titusville. After being seated and having their orders taken Relena pulled her work phone out and began toying with it, frowning at something she was reading on her screen.

“Everything alright?” Heero asked casually. He had ordered a beer, something he normally didn’t indulge in, but it had been a long day and everyone around them was letting loose with a bottle or two.

“Yes, just some personal stuff,” she said casually before shoving her phone into her purse. “So, I wanted to talk to you about Dorothy.”

Heero straightened in his chair and hid his frown behind his beer bottle. “Okay. What about her?”

“She’s not doing well. Apparently the situation with the last capsule has really hit her business hard,” Relena began to explain as she toyed with her glass of sweet tea. “And she’s not taking it very well, either.”

Heero set his bottle down on the table a little harder than he had intended to. “I’m not sure why you’re telling me this. She’s not getting any sympathy from me.” He could only feel so bad for a billionaire heiress with delusions of grandeur.

“I just keep thinking that if she somehow _was_ responsible for the accident…” she rubbed her temple and shook her head as if attempting to get the facts straight, “why would she risk everything she’s built over something so small and menial? Have you seen her headquarters? Her car? How she dresses? She spares no expense. I can’t see her skimping on something so important. Not when everything was riding on the docking of her first capsule.”  
  
Heero shifted in his seat and narrowed his eyes at her. “Why are you telling me this?”

“The word through the grapevine is that she’s working on other NASA projects, and that even though the investigation did find some slight fault in the capsule, she’s still contracted for other things. Possibly supply related projects…” Relena was obviously trying to tell him something without blatantly saying it.

“Who’s fault was it? Her engineers? Ours?” As far as Heero knew the investigation had been classified, the results of which were complete but never released to any witnesses or the public. Was Relena saying she knew something?  
  
“Multiple people were found to be at fault, which is why she hasn’t had her contracts terminated,” Relena explained vaguely.

“So… we’re going to have potential contact with more of her technology?” Heero attempted to make sense of her words. He knew she wasn’t allowed to divulge anything directly to him. Maybe in the past when they were dating she would have directly confided in him, but not now. “She’s making another delivery?”  
  
“There’s been no scheduled flights from Wallops Island that include her capsules and rocket delivery system,” Relena said slowly, her expression meaningful. “But her engineers have been traveling to Russia rather frequently this summer.”  
  
Heero’s spine stiffened. “She’s going to be in cooperation with the Russian rocket program?”

Relena’s nod was faint, barely visible. Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by a large vegetable pizza being placed between them by their server. They spent the remainder of their lunch in tense silence.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Dole Whip: soft serve frozen dessert created by the Dole Food company in 1986, served at Disneyland and Disney World. They’re heavenly. Morbidbirdy thinks we don’t need this footnote, but I don’t agree. This is the most important tidbit in this entire fic.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Kennedy Space Center_ ** ****_  
_ **_Titusville, Florida, United States  
_ ** ******_Monday, September 20, 2004_**

 

"Did you see the way that Russian guy was lookin' at us?" Duo said with a scowl as he tugged irritably at the front of his blue NASA flight suit and shifted around restlessly in his chair. "Those cosmonauts are always actin’ like they're the shit. They better look out cuz they've got another thing comin'."

Trowa shook his head and forked his subpar cafeteria caesar salad into his mouth. He chewed quietly for a moment with a thoughtful expression before he finally replied, "the space race ended in 1975, Duo. It isn't a competition anymore. They're our colleagues now."

"Colleagues, shmolleagues..." Duo grumbled as he picked at a discarded crouton on the corner of Trowas tray. "You say that but they act like they run the joint."

"If it wasn't for the Soviet cosmonauts our space station would have never been built," Trowa pointed out casually. Duo scowled across the table at him.

"Listen, I just spent four hours in a damn classroom taking notes on mind-numbing, dry protocol. I don't need you givin' me a lunchtime history lesson."

Trowa shrugged. He pushed his plate away, finally deciding that no matter how many times he tried the salad it just wasn't going to taste any better. "What are you going to do when you're stuck in a cramped space station with a Russian for eight months, then?"

Duo frowned and rubbed the back of his head. "Listen, I don't have anything against the Russians. I just don't like Vlad the Impaler over there talkin' down to me."

Trowa sat up from his lunch tray and peered over his shoulder at the two Russian cosmonauts seated at a nearby table. The guy Duo had referred to was seated at the far end of the table shoveling his meal into his scowling mouth with efficient speed and precision. While Trowa had seen them in training he had only encountered Yelena, the female of the pair, in training. The other, a scowling and serious-faced man named Leonid, wasn’t very social and tended to take his work in private.

"He reminds me of Heero," Trowa observed with a small smile. Their current mission Commander had nearly identical posture, expressions and eating habits. He began to wonder whether the man was a distant relation to their ethnically Japanese and Russian companion.

"Exactly what I mean, he's a fuckin' know-it-all, snarky, robotic asshole..." Duo replied, his fingers busily attempting to balance a metal spoon on the edge of his empty glass. He glanced up just in time to catch the amused glimmer in Trowa's eyes. They were locked onto something over his shoulder.

Duo's spine automatically stiffened. "He's behind me, isn't he?"

Trowa simply inclined his head. Duo gulped, tried to put his bravest face on and turned around slowly to come face to face with a frowning Heero Yuy.

“Uh, hey. You know, when I said robotic, what I meant was-” Duo began weakly.

“It’s okay. The feeling’s mutual,” Heero replied plainly.

“You know you’re my favorite, right?” Duo attempted to save face.

“Hm. Right.” With a nod Heero stepped around to the side of the table so that he was between Duo and Trowa, arms crossed over his flight suit clad chest, eyeing the table. “ _That’s_ the salad?” He gestured to Trowa’s barely touched, sad-looking bowl of limp lettuce.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t recommend it,” replied Trowa, glancing down at it with a slightly disgusted expression.

“Noted,” Heero said.

Duo scoffed. “See, vegetables _can_ be bad for ya.”

“Actually, despite how unappetizing that looks it probably had more nutritional value than anything you’ve eaten this week,” quipped Heero dryly.

Duo scowled at him. “Why are you like this?”

Heero smirked in response and rested a hand gently on Trowa’s shoulder. “I would exchange that for something you’re going to enjoy. It’s going to be a while before you get a chance to have something fresh.”

“Oh, he’ll have access to plenty of _fresh_ food for his mouth, if ya know what I mean,” Duo forced his joke with a grin and sealed it with a suggestive wink.

“Why are _you_ like this?” Trowa turned Duo’s words back on him and nodded at Heero. “You’re right. I will. Are you having lunch?”

Heero shook his head. “No, no time. I was just grabbing something on my way through, I’m due for a meeting.” He checked his watch and sighed before turning to Duo. “Don’t forget you have simulator training in an hour.”

“Psssh, I never forget. You wish I would, so you could have a top score for once,” he teased. The dry erase board in the hall outside of the fixed-simulation room had Duo’s name written all over it. His shuttle piloting skills were hard to beat.

“If I wanted a top score, I’d just break your thumbs,” Heero said dryly. Trowa lifted a hand to his mouth and tried to stifle a laugh. Duo’s face was its usual open, stunned and incredulous expression.

“You know, one day I’m gonna report you for all of this bodily harm you’re always promising to do to me!”

“You should do that. While you’re at it, I’ll report all of the sexually inappropriate comments you’re always making,” Heero lashed back, obviously amused.

Duo grinned. “Touché, pal. Touché.”

“Simulator in an hour,” Heero reiterated before looking down at Trowa. “Good luck finding something edible.”  
  
Trowa smiled and nodded. “Thanks.” He watched as Heero broke away from them, his hand releasing his shoulder slowly as he went. Their commander went to the far wall, plucked an apple from the fruit bowl and vanished through the double doors in the direction of the administrative offices.

“I don’t know why he’s always remindin’ me about shit like that,” Duo muttered as he leaned back in his chair and wedged his knee up against the edge of the table. “He acts like I miss shit. I never forget to do anything. Sure,” he waved a hand dismissively in the air, “I’ve been _late_ to stuff, but I mean, that’s how I work. He knows he can trust me.”

“I wouldn’t take it personally,” Trowa replied slowly, his own hand moving up to his shoulder to cup the place where the weight of Heero’s hand had formerly been. “It’s his job to keep us all on track.”

“Nah, you know as well as I do he gets off on that kind of thing.”

“Probably,” Trowa said with a smirk.

“Ah shit,” Duo mumbled, all of the humor on his face vanishing as his expression darkened. “Erehay omescay ethay ussiansray.”

Trowa blinked. “What?”

“I said, here comes the Russians,” Duo hissed through gritted teeth, his eyes darting over Trowa’s shoulder. At some point the Russians had abandoned their table on the opposite end of the room and appeared to be making their way to the exit but Leonid stopped before the door and began to approach their table.

“Privet!” Duo greeted them as soon as they came close enough. Leonid, the surly one, narrowed his eyes at the casual greeting.

“Zdravstvujtye, comrades,” Leonid replied, his voice low and unenthusiastic. “I see you are enjoying your free time, as usual.”

Duo stared at him. “Eh? ‘As usual’? What, you guys don’t take a break?”

“Not as often as you do it seems,” said the Russian, his expression stony. His companion, Yelena, shifted uncomfortably and shoved her hands in her flight suit pockets but said nothing. She didn’t seem happy to be a part of the discussion.

“Our cultures may go about our work in different ways, but at the end of the day we both accomplish our goals and get our work done,” Trowa interjected.  
  
Leonid shrugged, his expression impassive. “I disagree. We take our work very seriously. I suppose that some of us just aren’t as efficient as others…”

Duo growled under his breath but was stopped from making a reply by Trowa’s hand on his arm. “Are you questioning our efficiency or ability to perform our jobs?” The French astronaut’s demeanor remained cool and non confrontational despite the accusatory nature of his question.

“No-no, that is not what I meant at all.” The Russian’s hands propped up onto his hips. “I merely am pointing out that some of us _have_ to work harder than others. Not everyone can bat their eyelashes to get what they want.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” Duo blurted, his hands forming tight fists on the tabletop. Leonid smiled.

“In the Russian Space Program favoritism isn’t tolerated,” Leonid said icily. “But I guess things are different here at NASA, or is it something that JAXA and the ESA openly allow?”

Trowa’s shoulders tensed and his hand, which had been lying on the spot where Heero’s had been only minutes before, dropped to his lap as he immediately realized what the cosmonaut was referring to. He had seen Heero touch him, their commander. Did he think that Heero was showing Trowa favoritism over the rest of the crew? The insinuation made him uncomfortable. He felt heat manifest across his cheeks, threatening to form a blush. He gritted his teeth to will it away.

“You’re suggesting that our commander shows favoritism? He’s always maintained strict professionalism,” Trowa said calmly.

Leonid smirked. “Heh, of course. You _would_ say that, yes?” Before either Duo or Trowa could reply the Russian cosmonaut turned on his heels and gave them a small wave of his hand. “Good luck today on your training. Though, I’m sure you _won’t_ need it.”

Duo growled as the two cosmonauts vanished out the doors. “Seriously? That guy’s just fuckin’ jealous. I heard he was up for the command position on this mission before Heero got it. Lost the spot by two points on his placement test.”

“Yeah,” Trowa murmured faintly, a frown worrying his face. “Jealousy.”

 

* * *

 

 **_Kennedy Space Center_ ** ****_  
_ ****_**Titusville Florida, United States**  
_ **_Tuesday, September 21, 2004_ **   


“You all have your photo shoot in a couple of days, I suspect you’ll be getting a haircut,” Relena said over her shoulder as she marched down the hallway towards the press office, hugging a clipboard against her chest.

Heero sighed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Relena sighed. “Of course you weren’t. If you don’t have a place set up to do it, we can always get one of the military guys to buzz it off for you. It may be better under a helmet anyway.”

“No,” Heero replied quickly. He’d had the same haircut ever since he was a little kid, and he had no intentions of changing it now. He liked having long, messy bangs. It gave him a tactical advantage that allowed him to see out without other people being able to look him in the eye. “You don’t honestly believe that I should have a buzz cut.”

Relena stopped and turned around to grin at him. “I’m trying to imagine it now.”

“Please don’t,” Heero muttered.

She smiled and reached out to tousle his hair affectionately. “You’re scary enough the way you are. You don’t need to have a skinhead haircut, too.”

“I’m not _scary_ ,” Heero grumbled. “... am I?”

Relena chuckled and pretended to peer down at her clipboard. “Well according to our viewer and fanbase polls you’re probably the most unapproachable astronaut, only next to Chang Wufei.”

“Right,” Heero replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m just teasing,” Relena said. “Listen, if you want I can trim it up for you sometimes tonight. I can borrow some trimming shears from someone on the hair and makeup team.”

Heero shook his head. Relena cutting his hair was out of the question. She had once insisted on doing it when they were dating and the next thing he knew his sides were shaved and his messy, trademark hair had been piled up on the top of his head and swept over one eye. Duo still had the occasional laugh about it.

“You could always grow it out and put it in a man bun,” Relena pointed out as she continued her trek towards her office. Heero sulked along in her shadow.

“Are you _trying_ to humiliate me?”

She scoffed. “Me? No. Of course not. Anyway, how is your mystery person doing? What would they think about you in a buzz cut?”

“Relena…”

“You’re going to tell me one day,” she said as she pushed her way through the door and into her office. One of the other press agents was on the phone, a worried look on his face. He looked up at her as she came in and waved his arm from his desk to get her attention.

“Miss Peacecraft, you’ve got a personal call coming in on line 3,” he called out to her. Relena frowned and quickly rushed to her desk to take her call, leaving Heero standing by the door. He lingered there for a few moments before casually approaching her desk. They were supposed to be arranging his official NASA profile and picture for the new ISS broadcast website. He wasn’t sure if he should leave and come back later, or stay and listen in on her personal conversation. She answered his silent question with a wave of her hand, gesturing him to take the seat across from her desk.

As he dropped into it he could hear her speaking quietly in Danish as she held the receiver to her head. It had to have been one of her parents. Unfortunately he wasn’t fluent enough in her native language to follow the conversation. He watched how her face contorted with emotion, from concern to worry to anguish. Whatever the reason for the call, it wasn’t a good one.

Finally she hung up and gave him a weary look.  
  
“What?” Heero finally asked, frowning.

“Noin just had her baby,” she explained. She was tapping a manicured finger against the top of her desk anxiously. “And… it is worse than we thought it would be.”

“Is she okay? The baby is…?” Heero didn’t know what to say. There had been a lot of speculation regarding Noin and Milliardo’s child. As it was the first human ever to be conceived in space, nobody had any idea what to expect. As far as Heero knew Noin was being monitored closely, but there was little else they could do for her child until it was born.

“A girl. A little girl,” Relena said brightly, before adding in a more solemn tone, “but she’s fragile. Very fragile. Her bones are weak, and she’s got some sort of malformation from the radiation, and….” her voice tightened, threatening to choke into a sob. “I just really should be there for her.”

“Then go,” Heero said firmly. “I know this is a busy time for you, but you have people you can delegate your work to.”

“It’s not that simple,” Relena replied with a sigh. Heero crossed his arms tightly over his chest and gave her his sternest look.

“Listen. Don’t make the same mistakes I have- your career shouldn’t come before your family. If you feel like you need to be there, you should go. It’s understandable, and nobody would fault you for it,” he reasoned plainly.

Relena sighed and nodded. “Yes, I know. Maybe. I’ll think about it. Anyway, about your picture…”

“Can’t I use my last picture from my first mission?” Heero asked, irritated. He hated having his picture taken.

“That was years ago…” Relena said as she opened her laptop and started pulling up his profile information.

“I look exactly the same.”

Relena smirked. “You’d like to think that.”

Heero sighed. “I’ll have another one taken this afternoon…” he conceded with a scowl.  
  
“Good. Now, on your profile it says you’re single. Does this need to be changed?” She asked as she glanced curiously over her laptop monitor at him. Heero’s eyes shifted to the glossy top of her desk. He nodded.   
  
“No.”

“Good,” Relena replied with a smile.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Msy Wind Spirit_ ** ****_  
_ **_Florida Coast, Atlantic Ocean  
_ ** ******_Saturday, September 25, 2004_**

 

The forecast had predicted mild weather, but as with any meteorological science it hadn’t been entirely accurate.

The ocean was choppy and a cold wind battered the guests of the Msy Wind Spirit, a 440 foot luxury yacht that NASA had rented to host their pre-launch celebration party. The chilly conditions had forced many of the formally dressed guests inside. The lounge on the third deck was packed to the brim with NASA donors, astronauts, engineers, former and current crew as well as the many miscellaneous behind the scenes workers NASA relied on to keep their efficient exploration machine moving.

While Heero appreciated his colleagues he wasn’t in the mood to hang out with them after hours. He was about to be packed into a cramped space station with his team for 8 months. He needed all of the alone time he could get.

After finding a spot on the veranda he claimed a spot on the railing and was suddenly glad he had decided to wear a jacket. The polished wooden railing was warm to the touch, but the biting chill of the ocean breeze blew right through him. He reached up to fasten the top button of his jacket and took a deep breath of the cool evening air.

The Msy Wing Spirit had been at sea for nearly three hours, and dinner had just ended only fifteen minutes before. The assigned seating at dinner encouraged mingling. NASA employees were typically introverted nerds and someone had decided that they were going to _force_ them to schmooze this year. Heero had found himself at a table with two women he had never met before but over the course of the meal had learned that they were engineers from the NASA Jet Propulsion Lab in California.

Heero’s assigned seat was directly beside Sergei Krikalev, a Russian cosmonaut who had been on Expedition 1 in 2001 and was one of the first people to perform a long-duration mission on the International Space Station. Once the Russian realized that Heero could speak in his native tongue they passed the time with easy small talk. Heero thought he was fascinating, and at the end of their dinner was glad that whoever had made the seating arrangements forced them to blend otherwise he would have never taken the initiative to speak to the cosmonaut.

He reached into his pocket, felt for his room key and considered turning in for the night. The cruise was an overnight stint that was supposed to dock just before noon the following day. When he had heard that the party was going to be on a ship he made as many excuses not to go, but Relena quickly called him on his bullshit and had bullied him into coming anyway.

Heero didn’t like boats or being on the ocean, which was unusual for someone who was in the Navy. He didn’t like the unpredictability of the water, nor did he care for the creatures who lived in it. He had heard too many horror stories in the academy about people being tossed overboard and mangled by sharks that had heavily influenced his opinion of aquatic lifeforms.

His father, Odin, had always ridiculed his decision to join the Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force by saying that he was a fool for becoming a commissioned officer to such a weak organization. He had always tried to push him into obtaining his Russian citizenship so he could join their supposedly superior military organizations.

The Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force was incredibly small for a developed nation and only existed to protect and defend the Japanese islands in the event of an attack. Both the Japan Air-Defense Force and Maritime Self-Defense Force had limited means and ability due to the dissolution of Japan’s Imperial military after World War II. Both modern defense agencies were small, with the naval force having nearly half the aircraft that the air force did.  
  
Heero chose Japan’s naval force over the air force due to the selection process. Because the naval forces had less aircraft the piloting program was more difficult to join. The Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force pilots were considered much more elite than those in the Air-Defense Force. His need to be the best, and to show his subsequent JAXA and NASA employers his status was what made him suck up his hatred for the sea.

Now that Heero was a full-time astronaut he hardly ever stepped foot on a ship. Despite his dislike of the ocean he did miss the smell of the ocean, something that wasn’t as prevalent in Houston as it was at Kennedy Space Center. It reminded him of home and his childhood in Japan.

He closed his eyes and tried to picture the beach that he and his mother would collect sea glass on, his mind wandering to simpler times. His sentimental thoughts were interrupted by a soft, weak moan to his right side. He opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder.

Quatre Raberba Winner, their mission OPSPLAN was staggering to the railing with the palest face Heero had ever seen. The blonde steadied himself with both hands and swallowed hard, his eyes glistening in the moonlight.

“I don’t think I’ll ever have sea legs,” Quatre groaned weakly. “Do you… have any tips for seasickness? What do Navy people do when they’re not feeling well?”

Heero smirked, shrugged a shoulder and turned his gaze back to the choppy, glistening water. “Just vomit until you’ve got nothing left and then will it away.”

Quatre snorted, swallowed again and leaned forward. “I can assure you, I’ve got nothing left…”

Heavy footsteps approached them from the aft end. Duo was marching quickly across the starboard bridge wing of the deck, hugging himself against the chill. Their invitations had called for a business casual dress code, but Duo had dressed a little _too_ casual, with no jacket to speak of. He stopped beside Quatre and hopped in place to keep warm.

“What the hell are you two doin’ out here? It’s a tit bit nipply out here, don’t you think?” Duo peered into Quatre’s sallow face and blinked. “Oh man, you okay?”

Quatre nodded weakly. “Yeah. I’m willing it away…”

Heero smiled and watched as Duo draped an arm affectionately over their mission planner’s shoulders.

“Well, _will_ ya come inside already, before you die of hypothermia?” The American was studying Quatre’s face again, looking concerned. “Your lips are turnin’ blue.” He was obviously exaggerating. “I know a fix for this problem. Gin. And not the card game…” He looked up at Heero with a grin. “Oh, by the way, you’re on my team.”

Heero blinked. “For what?” He had no intention of playing cards or gambling.

“Sally and some of the other dorks arranged for a trivia game. Below deck. Ya know, where it’s warm. We had to form teams. Of course the Russians all grouped together. Bernadette is on their team, too. I think she’s got the hots for that Rasputin lookin’ dude.”

Heero frowned. He was pretty sure the American would eventually run out of Russian historical references.

“Don’t be so sad, man. You had your chance with Bernie, okay? Lord knows that poor girl tried…” Duo shook Quatre’s shoulders playfully. “C’mon, lemme buy you a drink.”  
  
“I don’t think alcohol and sea sickness mix,” Quatre muttered weakly as he was carted off to the staircase.

“Aw c’mon! Just one or two just to be social?” Duo hugged Quatre’s shoulders and smiled brightly. “Who knows maybe some rum will give you a pirate’s sea legs?”

Quatre sighed and then conceded, nodding. “At this point, I guess I’ll try anything…”

“That’s the spirit!” Duo chirped. “Let me get ya a ‘Monkey Wrench’, you’ll love it.”

 

* * *

 

The on-ship restaurant had been turned into a conference room for the trivia event. A large projection screen was strewn across the far wall, glowing with the NASA logo. The room itself appeared to have been split down the middle, tables and chairs situated facing each other to house the two teams. Heero immediately verified Duo’s former observation. The Russians were all clustered together to the left of the room, NASA and ESA astronauts crowded to the right. Servers flitted around throughout offering drinks and small, fancy desserts.

The room itself was dimly lit, warm and inviting. Heero decided he would stick around for a round or two before escaping to his room. He followed Duo and Quatre to the right side and spotted Relena almost immediately. It wasn’t difficult, she was frantically waving a cloth napkin to get his attention. The seat to her right was empty. She was gesturing to it with a smile.  
  
As Heero picked his way through the maze of tables and chairs he suddenly recognized the person to the right of the empty seat. It was Trowa.

He hadn’t seen Trowa all evening. He had ridden with Relena and Sally to the ship, and during the opening ceremonies on the upper decks he had been seated in the front row with no way of surveying the other guests. He had wondered if he had come at all. Now he knew. He was definitely there.

“Sit. Do you want something to drink? Here, I got you one of those whiskey sour things you like,” Relena said quickly as he slid into the chair next to her. She pushed the short tumbler glass at him and pointed at the projection on the screen. “I knew you couldn’t say no to something like this.”

She was indirectly calling him a know-it-all. He sighed and said nothing in response, not because of her statement, but because of the tense, heavy knot that had formed in the pit of his stomach. Trowa was seated beside him, and though Heero hadn’t addressed him or even looked directly at him yet, he felt suddenly hyper-aware of his presence. The chairs were crammed close together to make room for everyone to sit as a group. He could see Trowa’s knee from the corner of his eye, almost touching his own.

He picked up his whiskey glass and took a tentative sip before looking to his right, finally acknowledging the other astronaut. “Hey,” he said lamely in greeting.

Trowa was talking quietly with the woman sitting on his other side. Sally Po wore a warm smile on her painted lips as she laughed at something Trowa had said. She was trying to tempt him with her sugary cocktail, but he politely declined and held up his own drink before looking over at Heero. “Hey,” His cheeks were a faint shade of pink, likely from the alcohol. Heero wondered how many drinks he’d had.  

“Heero!” Sally leaned forward so she could see him better. “There you are! I’m so glad Duo managed to find you, we were worried you had gone to bed. We need your help kicking that other team’s ass.” Sally was known for her competitive spirit and wasn’t about to lose this game.

Heero opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by two hands grabbing his shoulders. He flinched and looked up to see Duo hovering behind him. “Of course I found him! He wasn’t sleepin’, just about to jump offa the boat. No worries, I talked him down.” He was shaking Heero playfully. “You have _so much_ to live for! Don’t do it man!”

With a bat of his hand Heero beat Duo off of his shoulders and grabbed his drink again, downing most of it. “Do that again and I’ll be throwing _you_ overboard _,”_ he muttered.

Duo laughed, inched his way past Sally to a seat to her right and dropped heavily in the chair. “Yeah, good luck, they’ll find me on a deserted island, livin’ it up, rockin’ a tan. Tossin’ me in the ocean is the least of my worries. What I _am_ worried about is kickin’ those pierogi-eatin’ butts over there.” He was straightening the front of his shirt, his expression determined. “I got a hundred bucks on this game.”

Sally scoffed. “Gambling?” She elbowed him with a good-natured smile. “You didn’t even ask if I wanted in.”

Drink empty, Heero slid his glass to his left where Relena automatically grabbed it and fished out the lemon slice and cherry that always came as a garnish. She popped the cherry happily in her mouth and gestured across the room to the two Russian cosmonauts, Yelena and Leonid, who were assigned to Heero’s crew.

“That woman, Yelena,” she said quietly, leaning in so that only Heero could hear her. “Do you think she’s pretty?”

Heero frowned and cut his eyes at her before turning his gaze to the Russian cosmonaut across from them. He hadn’t given Yelena much thought, but now that he thought about it, she was rather attractive. She wasn’t like Relena at all. Yelena had an almost androgynous face, framed by shoulder length, neatly kept brown hair and bright green eyes and freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. She was tall, taller than Heero, and built like an olympic swimmer with a cool, confident air that every Russian Heero had ever worked with seemed to possess.

He _did_ think Yelena was pretty, but he knew that wasn’t what Relena wanted to hear, so he simply shrugged a shoulder and tried to look interested in the projection at the front of the room. “She’s okay I guess,” he finally replied.

He heard Relena snort under her breath. “I think she’s a little too manly for my tastes,” she said casually. He could feel her eyes studying the side of his face, seeking his reaction. He gave her none.

The servers were taking final orders before the first round began. Heero decided he needed something a little more straightforward than a whiskey sour and asked for two shots of vodka instead. He was greeted by the shot glasses almost immediately, as the servers already had quite a few bottles on hand thanks to their Russian counterparts. He tossed one back, smacked his lips and held the second in between his finger and thumb before looking to his right again. Trowa was seated next to him, cradling an amber colored liquor that was likely bourbon. A cheerful purple cocktail umbrella hung off the rim of the glass, looking out of place.

He held up his shot of vodka to him. “Na Zdorovie,” he said plainly, toasting Trowa with the casual Russian slang which was essentially the equivalent of “let’s drink.”

Trowa raised his glass and clinked it gently against Heero’s before bringing it to his lips. With one gulp he downed the rest of its contents, seemingly satisfied by the smooth burning sensation as it slid down his throat.

The games began, and there was nothing casual about them. Heero supposed one couldn’t expect two groups of highly competitive astronauts and scientists to make it anything but a cutthroat competition. There was to be three rounds, each one centered around a specific topic.

The first round was general space agency history. The Russians dominated the first four questions, leaving the NASA and ESA astronauts struggling to catch up. Duo was pounding the tabletop with his fists with each right answer the Russians gave and occasionally shot angry glares down the table at Heero and the others for not offering up the correct answers. The truth was that history wasn’t Heero’s strong suit, unlike the Russians who practically lived in the past, always lamenting the glory of their former Soviet Union’s accomplishments.

The second round was hard science and mathematical theory, both of which Heero and his companions excelled at. Between himself, Trowa and Sally they managed to accumulate the most points and win the round.

The third round was focused on pop culture and science fiction references which was anyone’s game. Eventually the game became a tie, with one final question determining the winner. Duo was sweating bullets, the Russians were taunting him from the opposite side, and Heero just sat back and marveled at how ridiculous both sides looked as they struggled to win a prizeless competition.

Alistair, the NASA engineer who was running the game, grinned as he read off the final question from his stack of notecards.

“H. G. Wells War of the Worlds was first published in 1898 and has never been out of print. Which of the sci-fi classics was NOT written by Wells? A) The Time Machine, B) The Invisible Man, C) The Island of Dr. Moreau, or D) 1984?”

The Russians were looking confused. Yelena was whispering something urgently into Leonid’s ear. Suddenly Relena leapt up from her seat, her hand thrust high in the air.

“D. 1984 was written by George Orwell,” she said proudly.

Alistair smiled and nodded.  “Correct! The NASA/ESA team wins!”

Duo bounced out of his seat with a loud whoop and made a grabby-hand gesture at the Russian team. “Alright, comrades! Time to pay up.”

Leonid broke away from the Russian side and approached their table with an impassive expression. He fished out his wallet. “How much?”

“A hundred,” Duo said proudly with a grin, holding his hand out for his prize. The Russian man nodded, his dark eyebrows knitted together as he plucked his money from his wallet and began rummaging around in his pockets. He counted a few coins and then set them in Duo’s hand.

The American blinked and scowled. “A buck?”

“Nyet, a buck and seventy cents…” Leonid corrected him with a smirk.

“What the hell!?” Duo slapped the money down on the table, obviously perplexed. Leonix sighed and gestured to the money.

“We agreed on 100. So this is the equivalent, 100 rubles… I assure you that this is the correct exchange rate.”

Duo’s face was red, obviously embarrassed. It was clear that he hadn’t specified that they were working with United States currency. The Russians were laughing and taunting him from the opposite side of the room. Sally was laughing along with them. Duo scowled at all of them, took his buck seventy and shoved it into his pocket before he stalked off towards the exit door, muttering obscenities as he went.

With the game over all of the guests had stood and were milling around, discussing the trivia questions and generally mingling. Wufei, who had merely been spectating from the sidelines, slid into Duo’s vacated chair between Trowa and Sally and greeted them both in turn.

“Why didn’t you help? I’m sure you knew many of those questions,” Sally asked him with a friendly smile. Wufei shrugged his shoulders and crossed his arms over his chest, smirking confidently.

“It wouldn’t have been a fair game if I had played,” Wufei replied coolly.

Sally chuckled in response and finished off her drink. “Should we start calling you OZ, the great and powerful? The all-knowing, glorious one?”

Wufei gave a small, casual gesture with his hand. “If you must.”

“Alright, honorable OZ, the great and powerful, why were you late for our press release conference the other morning?” Sally teased with a smile.

Wufei scowled. “Busy. Working, of course.”  
  
“Working, or taking an extended lunch in the courtyard with a book?” Sally taunted as she poked the ice around in the bottom of her glass with her straw.

“I never shirk my duties,” Wufei defended himself quickly. “If you must know, I was handling some affairs leftover from our _last_ mission. _Some_ of us still have obligations on that front, Miss Po.”

“Noin.” Heero interrupted, perhaps more abruptly than he had intended. Wufei had turned in his seat to face him, peering over Trowa to study Heero’s face curiously.

“Yes. How did you-”

“I heard about the Hall of Fame nomination for Milliardo,” Heero informed him plainly.

Wufei frowned and sighed. “Apparently the Astronaut Hall Of Fame has requested that Milliardo be added to their wall, and she has been asked to approve of the information on his biography plaque,” He paused as if weighing how much he should divulge. “She was torn about whether or not she should mention that he is survived by herself and his child, considering the complex state of the child…”

Heero frowned and leaned his elbow on the table as he peered past Trowa at Wufei. He could see Trowa shifting uncomfortably in his seat, busying himself with his own drink. He felt guilty for not reaching out to Noin more after the mission to see if she was okay, even though she had gone through great lengths to isolate herself from her former teammates and the press. If it weren’t for Relena he wouldn’t have known anything about her.  
  
Wufei sighed again and shook his head. “That baby has serious complications. That’s all I can say. The prognosis isn’t good. She’s been keeping that fact secret, she doesn’t want science or the media to get a hold of it, so I would implore you not to go talking about it…”

“Excuse me.” The conversation was cut short by Trowa pushing himself to his feet, muttering his apologies as he slipped away from the table and wove through the crowd in retreat. Wufei watched him go before turning to Heero, an eyebrow raised.

“Well?” Wufei asked bluntly. Heero blinked, confused.

“What?”

“... aren’t you going to see what that was all about, _Commander?_ ”

 

* * *

 

The decks of the Msy Wind Spirit were deserted. The sun had set hours ago, forcing guests to seek warmth indoors where they were currently mingling or retiring to their rooms for the night.

Trowa didn’t mind the cold or the isolation. He had sought it out.

Small yellow lights lined the walkways, leading him safely towards the bow of the yacht where he battled the wind to stand against the railing at the very front of the boat. He looked out at the dark horizon. There was nothing to see except an expanse of choppy water, so he tilt his head back and gazed up at the sky. It was littered with stars, the view made brighter by the lack of light pollution from the city.

A chill breeze rushed through Trowa’s long bangs and sent a refreshing shiver through his body, reminding him that he was alive.

_He_ was alive. _He_ had survived the accident on the ISS, but not Milliardo…

Trowa gripped the cold railing tightly until his knuckles turned white. He felt his stomach drop. Up until this point he’d been pushing himself to be social and had thought he was doing a great job of putting up a confident and happy front. He’d actually been enjoying the pre launch party.

But then Wufei had mentioned Noin and her difficult pregnancy, and now Trowa suddenly found himself in a melancholic, antisocial state.

Not a day went by where he didn’t think about Milliardo’s death or wonder how Noin was holding up without him. 6 months after the accident and Trowa was still beating himself up on the inside, unable to forgive himself for his inability to save his crewmate. It just didn’t seem fair.

Why was he standing here and Milliardo wasn’t? It wasn’t like he had a wife to or a child to return home to. No one depended on him in that way. If there was a God, why had he chose Trowa to survive? What was his purpose?

He had survived but he wasn’t the same. It was like he was stuck in purgatory. He felt alone, cold, and weak. His mind was constantly torturing him. There was no escape.

Trowa was frowning at the stars as the morbid thoughts consumed him. He looked down at the dark water again and tried to gauge the distance that separated him from it’s cool embrace.

_I could fall. It wouldn’t be hard. And then it would all end..._

No. Trowa reminded himself that he wasn’t suicidal. He blamed all the alcohol he’d had that night and took a step back from the railing, shoving his cold hands into the pockets of his jacket.

Life was still worth living, wasn’t it? He was going to space soon. He had things to look forward to. Catherine and Nolan would be visiting Florida in a few days to see him off before the launch. He would be spending the next 8 months with a group of people he now considered friends. And Heero…

_Heero._

Trowa looked back up at the stars and sighed, the tip of his tongue peaking out to moisten his dry lips where the taste of bourbon still lingered.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Heero! Wait up!”  
  
Heero paused at the bottom of one of the narrow metal staircases that led to one of the upper decks and looked over his shoulder. Bernadette, one of the flight controllers visiting from Houston, hurried over despite the wind buffeting her long, flowy burgundy dress. She attempted to balance a martini glass the best she could despite the unfavorable conditions outside.

“I wanted to ask you something,” she said breathlessly, her cheeks red from either the alcohol, cold wind or both.

“Okay,” Heero said slowly as he turned to face her.

He had worked alongside Bernadette for 6 months during his work as CAPCOM for one of the previous missions. She had worked the shift before him, which meant that every morning for 6 months he had sat down with her for half an hour at a time to talk over coffee. Their conversations always centered around work, though occasionally she would attempt to ask him out ‘just as friends’ for the odd Friday or Saturday night movie. He had never taken her up on any of her offers.

“You’re still in Houston, right? Like you officially live there?” Bernadette asked curiously. Heero nodded.

“Yeah.”

“So you’re going to return there and it will be your permanent residence?” She was frowning. Heero found her behavior strange, and the fact that she was asking so many personal questions out of character for her.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. He had spent a considerable amount of time traveling back and forth to Japan, and he had thought about permanently relocating after this mission to care for his mother. “Why?”

She shifted on her heels and took a sip of her drink, her dark eyes downcasted to their shadows on the deck, elongated by the low proximity of the moon. “Just wondering. Anyway, when you get back, give me a call. It would be nice to be able to talk about old times.”

He had no reply to give aside from a stunned nod. She forced a smile and then turned to trot away down the deck to duck back into the warmth of the restaurant. Heero watched her go, confused. What the hell had that been about?

He shrugged off the weird conversation and tried to redirect his mind back to his former task. He needed to find Trowa and make sure he was okay.

The higher he climbed the less people he saw. It as clear that many of the guests were taking shelter in their rooms or the recreation rooms, safe inside from the harsh nighttime winds. As he got to the topmost desk he stopped at the railing and peered down at the main deck that stretched to the bow of the yacht. He spotted a tall, lean figure standing at the frontmost point of the bow, peering over the railing at the water’s edge. He recognized the stance, squared shoulders and shifted hip leaning against the rail immediately. Trowa.

He turned and jogged carefully down the stairs, passing from one deck to another until he made it to the main deck. The starboard wing was still open, with no guests blocking his way as he passed along the side and to the bow. Trowa was still there, standing just as he had seen him minutes before. He approached him from behind cautiously, leaning into the wind to keep it from pushing him back.

“It’s amazing how cold this air feels compared to the chill of space,” he said loudly, his voice barely audible over the rush of the breeze. “Must be all the salinity.”

Trowa seemed startled by Heero’s sudden presence. He looked over at the other and offered a soft greeting that was almost taken by the wind. “Heero, hey.”

Heero nodded in greeting and grabbed the railing beside Trowa to steady himself. “Of all the places on the ship to be, you chose the most inhospitable,” he pointed out casually before glancing over his shoulder at the deck which was still empty. He supposed no other guests wanted their hair ruined by the whipping winds. “Had enough people for today?”

The wind had blown Trowa’s long bags to the side, exposing both of his emerald green eyes in the dim moonlight. He turned to face Heero and leaned against the railing. “I think I’m all partied out.”

With his face in full view it was clear to Heero that Trowa was exhausted. He appeared unusually pale, the energy that was normally hidden in his eyes less vivid. Heero hadn’t seen him for most of the night, and even at the trivia game he could do nothing but steal the occasional glance at him as he answered questions or made small talk with their colleagues. Now he had a full view of his face, alone, without any interruption.  
  
“Then why not go to your room? Why here?” He gestured over the railing to the dark, churning ocean. It occurred to him that the man who stood in front of him practically mirrored the unrest of the sea around them. “What’s bothering you?”

Trowa shook his head and pointed up at the sky. “I wanted to look at the stars.” He answered, carefully avoiding the second part of Heero’s question.

Heero forced his eyes to break their gaze of Trowa’s face so he could follow the other astronaut’s finger to the darkened sky above them. The stars were bright enough, the sky as clear as it could be considering the blanket of atmosphere above them. He turned his body to face the ocean and craned his head back to study the major constellations directly overhead. “You don’t get enough of them on the station or on spacewalk? It’s a much clearer view from there…”

“You’re asking an astronaut if he ever gets tired of looking at the stars.” Trowa thought the question was silly. “Do you not find them beautiful as well, or are you jaded from your time in space?”

Heero looked over his shoulder and spotted Trowa’s chin tilted up, his eyes wide as he took in the faint nebulous image of the milky way faintly glowing overhead in the desolate darkness that surrounded them. “Yeah,” he said faintly as he admired the way the other astronaut’s neck tapered elegantly into his jawline, and the way the soft fringe of his long bangs rested against the high curve of his cheek. “You’re right, it’s beautiful.”

Trowa suddenly turned his gaze onto Heero. “You’re not looking at the stars, are you?” He asked gently. The wind picked up and he leaned in closer causing the tips of their shoes to brush together.

“No, just a particular star,” Heero replied plainly, calmly, though inside his body was tense and his stomach was winding in knots. “One that’s not shining as brightly as it normally does.”

Trowa turned back towards the water with a worried frown. “Maybe it is dying… cooling off into ash.”

Heero sighed and slid his hand along the railing until it brushed gently against Trowa’s. “Why? What happened back there? Was it about Noin?” Trowa had seemed at ease until he and Wufei had mentioned the former Italian astronaut.

“It’s not that simple,” Trowa shook his head, looking defeated. “I… I’m just,” he couldn’t get the words out. They seemed to be stuck on his tongue, almost as if it pained him to voice them.

There was laughter off in the distance and the sound of heels clicking against the deck. Trowa looked around but didn’t see anyone. He sighed and returned his attention back on Heero. “Sometimes I wonder what would have happened had I been the one to get sucked into the capsule and not Milliardo…”

Heero frowned. Trowa was suffering from survivor’s guilt, something he had plenty of familiarity with. He had lost a colleague during a training accident his first year as a Navy cadet, and even now his former flight chief's face continued to haunt him.  
  
“That’s normal,” Heero tried to reassure him. His hand released the railing only to cup the top of Trowa’s firmly. “It’s okay to think that, but you can’t let yourself believe in the alternative. That it should have been _you._ The reality is that it shouldn’t have been anyone, but … he released you, and made his decision.” He wasn’t sure if his words were going to help or hurt, but he continued offering them anyway. “He made his sacrifice, don’t let his choice to let you live be in vain.”

“He had a wife. And a baby on the way,” Trowa argued, looking down at their hands. “He had…. more to live for.” It was the truth, at least in Trowa’s mind. It was clear that he couldn’t make peace with Miliardo’s sacrifice.

“He didn’t know about the baby,” Heero pointed out gently. “And I don’t think he would have changed his actions if he had known. It’s a horrible loss, but it was an accident, one that you couldn’t control or prevent.” He knew that no matter how many times anyone told Trowa otherwise he’s still internalize his guilt. It was common, and expected. “I’m glad you’re here. All of us are.”

Trowa sighed and carefully freed his hand. “I don’t think the Trowa Barton that first arrived on the ISS last year is the same one that returned to earth this year.” He quickly looked away like he’d just disclosed something he hadn’t meant to, his jaw clenching.

“Of course you’re not,” Heero replied matter-of-factly. “Nobody would be.” Even though Trowa had pulled away and was retreating from him Heero couldn’t bring himself to let him run away completely. Rather than grab his hand and force him to accept the gesture he reached out and carefully grasped the cuff of his jacket sleeve. With a soft tug he pulled him closer by it, his expression solemn. “Nobody expects you to just shrug it off, Trowa.”

“It’s more than that…” Trowa continued to avoid eye contact, unable to hold Heero’s questioning gaze. It seemed that he was falling apart on the inside, his stoic mask slipping from his face to expose what hid behind it. He was allowing Heero a glimpse of a side of him that he hadn’t shown anyone else.

“I’ve changed.” The words were forced from his mouth in a whisper.

Trowa was crumbling in Heero’s hands, his fragile facade falling away to expose the rawest parts of him. Heero didn’t know what to do. As his commander his point of action was to suggest he seek counseling, and possibly another psychological evaluation. However, the friend in him wanted nothing more than to comfort him and allow Trowa to use him as a sounding board for his feelings.

“These changes… are they what worry you?” Heero’s fixed hold on Trowa’s sleeve softened, his fingers sliding up to his elbow. He cupped it gently and continued to pull him closer, parting his feet so that Trowa could step between his own, their closeness causing the fronts of their jackets to brush against each other. “Have you told anyone else about this?”

“I’ve sought professional help.” Trowa couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with Heero, so he chose to look over his shoulder at the string of lights that danced across the yachts lower deck and trailed up it’s sails, mimicking the stars in the sky.

Heero nodded. _Good, he’s taken the initiative to get help at least,_ he thought. “And they said?” His fingers tightened around the prominence of Trowa’s elbow as if to steady him, or perhaps he was unconsciously holding him in place to keep him from running away. Trowa seemed to be holding something back, struggling with the idea of sharing his secret with Heero. It looked like he wanted to, so why was he hesitating? What was he hiding?

Trowa looked down, biting the bottom of his lip as he fought his internal struggle. After a long pause he finally locked eyes with Heero and said softly, “I can’t tell you…”

Heero’s eyes narrowed as the weight of the statement settled on him. Was Trowa trying to tell him there was a problem without actually verbalizing it? He was aware of the complications of this conversation, the ethical issues and what it would mean if he were to learn something that could potentially be a danger to the crew. NASA had cleared Trowa, but did they know about him seeking a second opinion?  
  
“Alright.” Heero’s head was spinning with the potentials of the situation. “You don’t have to.” His face was stinging from the cold ocean wind. He could feel a slight tremble in Trowa’s arm, was he cold or was it something else that gave him a chill?

“I’m here, if you ever need someone to talk to, but I understand why you don’t and I don’t take any offense,” he explained slowly, his own gaze piercing Trowa’s, searching for answers he knew the other astronaut wasn’t willing to give.

“I want to tell you. I want to talk to someone about it, but I,” Trowa stopped himself and shook his head again. “It’s… nothing. I’m sorry if i’ve worried you.” He was already building up the walls he’d slowly let down.

“Why are you apologizing to me?” Heero dropped his hand from Trowa’s elbow and frowned at him. Had he been trying too hard to get him to open up? Was he acting too worried? Sure, he was concerned for him, but he hadn’t intended on coming off too strongly. “You’re worried that you’re going to be judged for the person you _are_ now?” He knew it was a bold statement, but he was trying to fill in the blanks Trowa had left open. “That’s a normal reaction, Trowa.”

With his elbow released Trowa had taken a step back, increasing the distance between them. Heero didn’t want to end the conversation here. He had finally gotten Trowa to talk to him, to open up, whether it be because of the alcohol or the incessant rocking of the ship, and he wasn’t going to let the moment slip away so easily. He countered Trowa’s retreating step with forward movement of his own, his hands boldly grasping the other astronaut by the waist. His palms slid across his sides, burying inside the pocket of warmth under Trowa’s jacket. “Don’t run away from me. Please…”

“I'm sorry,” Trowa murmured but didn’t retreat this time. At first his body froze as Heero pulled him in closer, his instincts to flee were running high, but as they stood there looking into each other’s eyes, exchanging a private, nonverbal conversation, Trowa slowly started to thaw into Heero’s embrace.

It was weird for Heero to see Trowa acting so unsure of himself. His confidence was gone, as if something or someone new had replaced the flight engineer he had first met a year before during his time working as CAPCOM. Trowa was clearly hurting, obviously struggling with something alone.

Heero didn’t want him to be alone. He didn’t want him to feel isolated, to be sorry for something he had no control over.  
  
“Stop apologizing to me,” Heero muttered. His right hand snaked around to Trowa’s back beneath his jacket and pressed his palm into the slight indentation above his hips where he splayed his fingers out against the smooth fabric of his shirt. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Without another word Trowa wrapped his arms around Heero and pulled him into a tight hug. He hid his face against the shorter man’s neck and closed his eyes, letting Heero’s warmth soak through his clothes and into his chilled body.  

Heero knew it was selfish to feel enjoyment from being so close to Trowa. His friend was struggling with something, obviously upset, and perhaps the gesture had been simply to find warmth and comfort in each other. No, he knew better than that. They had already admitted their feelings, he knew exactly what Trowa’s body language meant. Perhaps it was the shots of vodka going to his head, or maybe the way the tall astronaut’s body fit so perfectly against his, but he had no intention of being _professional_ right now. Yes, he was soon to be Trowa’s commander, and yes, they weren’t supposed to engage one another during their expedition, but that didn’t mean that Heero couldn’t at least provide comfort to his friend. His mind was made up. He wasn’t going to push Trowa away, not now, not when he needed him most.

Their chests soon became warm as they shared body heat. Heero could feel Trowa’s hot breath against the side of his neck, feel the hairs on his arms tingle as his body was assaulted with a mixture of external cold, pleasant warmth and internal heat stirred up by the feeling of Trowa’s soft, silky auburn hair resting against the side of his face.

Heero slid his arms around his waist, held him tighter against himself and sighed. He wasn’t sure what to say, and before he could decide he spotted a figure moving in the shadows of one of the upper decks. He tilted his head to get a better look and immediately recognized the shimmering, navy blue of Relena’s cocktail dress as it crept along the railing before it vanished around the corner to the aft end of the yacht. He hid his frown against Trowa’s shoulder and made a mental note to deal with that later.

“Tell me what I can do to help you,” he finally said, his fingertips caressing the faint indentation of Trowa’s spine through his shirt.

“This is helping,” Trowa’s voice was muffled against the collar of Heero’s jacket. Being physically close to someone else was exactly what he had needed. It helped take the pain away, reminding him that he wasn’t as alone as he felt. Heero’s unique scent mixed with his cologne permeated Trowa’s senses, helping lull him into a state of calmness.

Heero nodded and let loose a long-held sigh. “Alright. Then you can ask me for assistance anytime you need it,” he said, his voice serious. “This is good practice for survival body heat conservation anyway,” he added with amusement.

Trowa chuckled against Heero’s neck and finally pulled his face away from its warm hiding spot. “Thank you. For coming down here to talk with me.”

“No problem,” Their close proximity caused something hard in Heero’s jacket pocket to jab into his side. He groped around, remembering that he had left something there earlier that afternoon. Carefully he hooked his finger into his pocket and fished out a pair of sunglasses, his lucky aviator sunglasses, and slid them casually over his eyes. He had worn them that afternoon when the ship had first departed. He had brought them as a good luck charm for the launch but had no other glasses to wear on the yacht. He peered up at Trowa through them, barely able to see his face due to the dark tint. “Anytime.”

Surprised, Trowa took a good look at Heero and suddenly burst out laughing, his melancholy mood lifting.

It was like he’d just been transported back in time to the 80s. “Are we on the set of _Top Gun_?” he asked, unable to take Heero seriously in those oversized aviator glasses. “This is the secret weapon you used to secure the high score on the pinball machine?” He remembered their discussion from months ago.

“Hm, yes.” Heero felt the tension that had built between both of them wither away. He smirked and shrugged his shoulder as casually as he could. “I brought them, hoping I may get lucky…”

“Get lucky at what exactly?” Trowa snorted and shook his head. “Alright, Corey Hart [1]. Can I try them on, or would that somehow jinx your luck?”

Heero smirked and pulled the glasses down the bridge of his nose to look at the other astronaut over them. He had never let anyone handle his lucky glasses before. While he didn’t necessarily honestly _believe_ that they were lucky he found himself wishing that they were. Maybe that luck would rub off on Trowa and make him feel better? He nodded, took them off and handed them to the other young man with a sigh.

“I guess I’ll sacrifice some luck for you,” _just so I can see you wearing something of mine_ , Heero thought.

Trowa held the aviators gently, flipping them around in his hands so he could get a better look. “Where did you get these? Are they really as old as they look?” It wasn’t like you couldn’t buy aviators at any major department store. They were still a popular style, but this pair looked like it had been manufactured in the 80s. Trowa pushed his bangs aside and slipped the sunglasses on, giving Heero a serious look.

Heero chuckled as Trowa vogued in his glasses. “I got them when I was a kid,” he confided casually. “A flea market outside of Okinawa with my mother. I used to envy the American pilots and I used to imagine that one of their pilots had once owned them…” He lifted a hand to gently brush Trowa’s hair away from his face, tucking the errant strands behind his ear. “They look good on you.”

“They look good on you, too.” Trowa pointed out as a smile crept back onto his lips. He quickly composed himself again and brought his finger up to rest on his chin in a thoughtful pose. “I feel the need,” he wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “The need for speed.”

Who knew a pair of silly sunglasses could lighten the mood. Heero’s eyes rolled hard and he stifled a groan. When did Trowa get so cheesy? … he liked it.

“Alright, enough, before I toss you overboard,” he threatened half-heartedly.

“I’d like to see you try.” Trowa teased in a flat tone, carefully sliding the glasses from his face. He folded them up and handed them back to their owner before shoving his hands into his pockets.

Heero stuffed the glasses back into his pocket and shrugged a shoulder. “Somehow I can’t see two potentially drunk astronauts wrestling around at the front of a boat during such unfavorable sailing conditions ending well,” he pointed out plainly.

Suddenly a grin overtook his face and he grabbed Trowa’s shoulders and tugged him to the side, playfully threatening to toss him over the railing.

Trowa reached up and wrapped his fingers around Heero’s biceps, feeling the lean muscle flex under his grip. The life preserver rings that lined the outer walls of the yacht flashed before him as his back was pressed firmly against the railing, his body tilted ever so slightly over it. “If I go over, you’re coming with me.”

Heero glanced over Trowa’s shoulder at the black, churning mass of the deep ocean. Damn, he hated water, but if Trowa did fall in he wouldn't hesitate to save him. It was ingrained in his person, he could never leave a team member behind. It was the same drive and loyalty that Trowa had, the same dedication that the other astronaut showed in his selfless attempt to save Milliardo.

It was one of the many things that Heero liked about Trowa. His lean, athletic body was another.

Heero suddenly realized that he had pinned Trowa to the railing, his own body lying flush against the taller figure as he pretended to try and wrench him over the top.

_Fuck, what am I doing?_ A moment of clarity broke through his buzzed brain. The alcohol wasn’t the only thing he was intoxicated by, but rather the presence of the other young man. They were finally alone, it had been a long time. Why was it that every time they had a moment of privacy Heero found himself touching him? It was as if his hands were magnetized to Trowa’s irresistible attractive force.

He had stopped himself before. Back in the hotel room he had promised himself not to compromise everything for such a selfish want, but in the dark at the bow of the ship, alone, his body fully relaxed from the effects of the vodka, he didn’t give a shit about anything.

He gave up on everything and with a sudden, bold move he switched the direction of his force, and instead of pushing Trowa’s shoulders towards the railing he yanked him towards himself, buried his face against the taller man’s neck and pressed his mouth roughly against his throat, finally allowing himself the guilty pleasure of feeling what the other astronaut’s warm flesh felt like against his lips.

It was heaven.

Trowa’s body jerked forward as an unexpected jolt of electricity speed through his veins. His heartbeat thudded wildly between their chests and his body wasted no time reacting to Heero’s touches.

“Heero,” the moan drifted from Trowa’s lips and hovered in the cold air above them. He didn’t back away from Heero’s advances, instead he eagerly leaned into them.

Heero’s mind was reminding him of all of the reasons why what he had initiated was a terrible idea, but Trowa moaning his name drowned out any of his common sense. He had resisted following his emotions for so long that now he found himself overwhelmed, his urges too strong. Nothing mattered in that moment- NASA, ethics, the mission… all he cared about was hearing his name moaned in that sultry, accented voice again.

His hands greedily roamed down Trowa’s chest, around his sides, to his ass which he grabbed possessively. _This is happening,_ his mind chanted over and over again. Self-restraint tossed to the wind, he dragged his tongue across Trowa’s throat and breathed in the pleasant, honeyed scent of his skin. _This is definitely happening…_

With their bodies pressed together it was now incredibly warm. He nipped Trowa’s throat and rocked his body against him, hoping to summon his name from Trowa’s lips again.

“Are… you sure about this?” Trowa groaned, his jaw tight, hands grasping at the front of Heero’s jacket to pull him closer despite the hesitant nature of his statement.

Heero reluctantly pulled his mouth away from the reddened skin of the other astronaut’s throat and looked up at him with a half-lidded stare. Trowa was returning his lustful gaze, and the sight was almost too much for Heero to bear. He cupped Trowa’s cheek, rubbing small circles into the chilled skin with his thumb as he watched the other’s lips par in anticipation for him.

“Tell me to stop,” said Heero coolly. In reply, Trowa leaned forward to claim his lips in a feverish kiss.

Surprised but pleased, Heero leaned forward and used his lips to become better acquainted with Trowa’s. In response, Trowa parted his lips and led Heero’s tongue inside with his own. Trowa’s mouth, which tasted faintly of the oaky whiskey and spearmint, was inviting, and his lips were deceptively soft, smooth and experienced. It wasn’t what he would have expected from another guy, and it left him wanting more.

Whether it was the bobbing of the yacht, the liquor or the fact that Heero was absolutely drunk with lust he couldn’t be sure, but time became a blur. Their kiss broke, leaving them both gasping, only to resume again as soon as they had caught their breaths. Before Heero knew it his hands were roaming beneath Trowa’s dress shirt, tracing the smooth lines of his stomach, fingertips gliding across hardened nipples and then plunging down to pull irritably at the clasp and zipper of Trowa’s fitted slacks.

Trowa, panting, chuckled and grabbed his hands to still them. “Come to my room,” the frenchman said, his voice borderline begging. “Now…”

Trowa didn’t have to ask Heero twice. His retreating hands opted to grab Trowa’s arms instead.

“No, mine,” Heero replied firmly. As he stepped backwards, leading the disheveled-looking flight engineer in the direction of _his_ private cabin as a figure rushed past them to grab the railing.

“Ugh, this is terrible,” a weak voice said through the wind. “I think I’m going to….” The figure abruptly leaned over the top railing and gave a loud heave.

It was Quatre, looking completely miserable and exhausted.

The blonde looked over at them and flushed when he noticed their intimate embrace. “Oh, hey guys,” He straightened up and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “I’m glad to see you’ve finally hooked up.” He’d known for a while now that the two aloof astronauts had a thing for each other.

Heero had heard the term ‘ _die of embarrassmen_ t’ used before but he was certain he hadn’t experienced it until just now. With a groan he bit his lower lip and with a frustrated scowl released Trowa’s arms. “It’s… not like that…” _Who the fuck am I trying to kid?_

Quatre shook his head and smiled, his face pale. “It’s okay, I won’t...t-tell…” his body stiffened and he leaned over the railing again, shoulders shaking roughly with each heave. He looked miserable.

Trowa sighed, and he ran his palm down the front of Heero’s jacket, a private message that he wasn’t done here, and dutifully approached their friend.

Heero felt as if he was going to combust from all of his pent-up frustration. He liked Quatre enough but in that moment he wanted nothing more than to furiously chuck their colleague overboard. If it had been anyone else he would have. He sighed and gripped the railing tightly to keep himself from intervening as Trowa kindly helped Quatre stand upright long enough to cross the deck towards the lower deck cabins.

“Goodnight, Heero,” Quatre called over his shoulder in a scratchy, dry voice.

“Yeah.” Heero made eye contact with Trowa as he retreated with the blond under his arm. “Goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Sunglasses at Night song by Corey Hart


End file.
